Left the Music behind
by Rain Day
Summary: Elrond's Chief Advisor was efficient and Glorfindel could see why he was admired for his work, but he was a terrible elf, ruthless and utterly cruel.
1. Chapter 1

"That would be all." Erestor said without at least having the decency to look up. "You may take your leave now."

With that said he proceeded to leafing through a couple of loosely bound documents conveniently piled up in front of him, hiding any expression his downturned face might have held at the moment. Though, Glorfindel did not expect it to hold any expression at all. It seldom did.

As handsome as Erestor's face with its noble features, sensual lips and slanted, almond-shaped eyes was, it was nothing but a mask, an empty promise, fraud.

Since his arrival in Imladris Glorfindel had marveled at how someone could cut others down so utterly with nothing but a few, well aimed remarks, to a point of having them literally break down in front of him and weep at his feet, and keep a perfectly bland expression through it all.

Erestor could not be moved by anything.

Erestor had no heart.

Never, ever had Glorfindel seen him smile a single, honest smile, least of all laugh.

In the beginning he had even made the mistake of trying to befriend Elrond's somber Chief Advisor. For a brief, gullible moment he might even have felt attracted to Erestor. His lean figure, his dark, exotic beauty and his razor-sharp wit were undoubtedly attractive. He wouldn't have been the first to notice that.

Glorfindel had imagined kissing those lips that looked so soft and inviting and running his hands over Erestor's firm backside, kneading his buttocks, drawing a needy moan from him, before lifting him up and onto that heavy desk behind which he used to hide and-

Reality had quickly cured him of this amazingly naive notion.

Erestor took no lovers and Erestor had no friends –for good reasons.

He was cruel, uncaring and led the most lonely, bleak existence Glorfindel could possibly imagine.

For all he knew there was nothing Erestor truly enjoyed and no one he cared for.

Even Erestor's family was unknown to everyone Glorfindel had asked. Elrond had just waved it off. The rest simply hadn't known. Not one chronicle, register or even poem mentioned Erestor's name. Other than that he had been Gil-Galad's advisor before he had followed and served Elrond and that he had chosen the twin's names nothing else was known about him. And the latter was probably a hoax.

The only creature somehow, somewhat connected to Erestor was his horse. A nasty, mean-spirited blue roan that bit and kicked just like his master, even at those meaning him well –or having no other choice but to attend him.

The horse didn't have a name.

Soon enough it had become clear to Glorfindel that Erestor not only didn't care for fame and name-dropping, he deliberately avoided it and made sure to be forgotten when it came to history. That in itself wasn't so unusual, Glorfindel had thought. Modest elves weren't unheard of. He had believed that all he had to do was just trying a little harder.

And it wasn't that Glorfindel hadn't tried hard.

In the beginning he had attempted hard to crack what he had perceived as a mere shell Elrond's Chief Advisor was hiding in.

Glorfindel had wanted nothing more than to make him happy, see a single smile on his lips, a sparkle in his eyes.

In the beginning he had honestly believed Erestor to simply be very shy and terribly lonely, terribly neglected by everyone around him taking his hard work for granted. After all, no one had been able to tell Glorfindel even what kind of food Elrond's Chief Advisor liked or where he went to after he left his office –or if he ever left his office.

Maybe, he had thought, Erestor had lost someone dear to him? Maybe he had been hurt in the past? Or he was weary, like some elves used to get after a lifetime, and just needed a little shove in the right direction to enjoy life again?

Glorfindel had imagined Elrond's Chief Advisor deep down to be someone easy to love once someone had drawn him out and gotten to know him. Easy to love by him.

Yes, somehow... he had been stupid enough to hope...

Glorfindel had honestly thought that he could love Erestor. He didn't even remember why.

It had been folly, nothing more.

His joy of being returned and being alive again must have gotten to his head.

That must have been it.

There was no hidden, charming, loveable side to Erestor. There simply wasn't.

All his attempts had been in vain. Glorfindel had learned the hard way that even among elven kind beauty was not an indicator of character.

By chance Glorfindel had learned that Erestor collected memorabilia, bits and pieces from the far and recent past of the different elven realms.

The one and only time Glorfindel had managed to peek into Erestor's chamber he had spied a wall-hanging that was embroidered with Gil-galad's stars, as well as some shields and weapons from different ages. Erestor owned a small ring that was, despite its plainness, clearly Fëanorian in origin. He even owned what looked like a piece of plank from a Telerin swan-ship and, Glorfindel had found out, several books that had once belonged to his own house in Gondolin. Something that had made him quite proud at the time.

So smug and happy had he been upon learning Erestor's secret love for those little things that he had decided to make him a special present. It had been the only thing that once had belonged to him and that had survived the fall of Gondolin. Even more than that, it had been something dear to him:

Ecthelion's flute.

Ecthelion had given it to him when they had been children and Glorfindel had wanted to learn an instrument his best friend really liked, so he could play for him whenever he felt sad and cheer him up.

He really had learned to play it. Not as well as Ecthelion, but well enough.

Erestor had ignored him all day and when Glorfindel had finally managed to catch him where he couldn't avoid him, he had offered him the flute and handed it over to him, telling him exactly what it meant to him and why he wanted Erestor to have it.

It had fallen to the ground between them.

Erestor hadn't even cared to catch it to keep it from falling and he had stepped on it, rushing past Glorfindel in his usual manner.

Since that day Glorfindel despised Erestor. Not because of what Erestor had done, but because of the things it had opened his eyes to. Only after this incident had Glorfindel realized how stupid he had been to believe he could change the dark-haired advisor into someone happier and nicer.

Sometimes the blond Eldar could almost sense the darkness surrounding Elrond's Chief Advisor. He imagined it following Erestor wherever he went. It felt like a cold breath coming directly from the halls of Mandos.

This way Erestor's presence in his new life constantly reminded Glorfindel of death. His own death, more precisely, but also the possible deaths of those he had grown to love.

They were elves, but even elves could die. He knew. They could be killed. All of them.

And for a brief moment Glorfindel thought he had never hated anyone quite as much as he hated Erestor in this very moment in all his two lives.

"Elrond!" He tried one, last time.

He knew he was pushing his luck with this. Yet, what was luck compared to what was at stake?

"He is right." His lord said to Glorfindel's disappointment. "You are needed here."

"Lindir is my friend and—"

"Lindir won't travel alone and you know that, my friend. He will have an escort and even without you to command them our soldiers are quite capable, don't you think?" Elrond sighed. "Glorfindel, you trained them. Show some confidence in their ability to actually do what they were trained for. What would they think if they knew their captain doesn't even trust them to keep their charges safe on a such a short and harmless journey?"

Elrond's eyes searched Erestor's who, without lifting his head, nodded. Barely, but enough for Glorfindel to notice._  
_

_Now you seek his approval even for your sympathetically encouraging speeches?_

"This is not the first nor will it be the last time Lindir will decide to travel."_  
_

_Decide to travel. You can hardly call an errand ordered by your Chief Advisor 'decide to travel'. Why ever he chose Lindir for this is entirely beyond me. He is a minstrel, for Elbereth's sake! A minstrel! Can't you at least send a soldier on a mission like that?!_

"You cannot abandon your post here every time he does..." Elrond's compassionate smile and the immense sadness in his eyes irritated Glorfindel more than anything.

Like most of the time Elrond seemed to know something Glorfindel did not. And, at least that was what the Eldar thought, he did not agree with the decision his Chief Advisor had made. However, he did not oppose or even question it.

_Why?_

"Show some confidence in him as well." Elrond said.

"Elrond, I really have a bad feeling about this." Glorfindel didn't know how else to put it. He _felt _that this wouldn't end well. He couldn't allow Lindir to go alone.

"Lindir is a grown elf and he too knows how to defend himself. I'm certain he will return to us alive and well."

Again, Erestor agreed. With a fleeting gesture of his hand, this time.

_Am I getting paranoid?_ Glorfindel wondered. _No, no this isn't the first time._

It had happened before. Glorfindel had noticed it before. He just hadn't paid as much attention to it. At times Erestor would be the one making the decisions, the one having the final word, the one ordering – even Elrond.

At times it was as though their places were reversed.

Glorfindel, frankly, hadn't cared before.

This day was different.

This day it was the safety of his friend, his little nightingale, that he was concerned about.

* * *

Lindir had saved his life.

Such a tiny sentence for something so grand, so important and so difficult to do, something so meaningful and precious.

Lindir had saved his life.

Glorfindel still remembered those nights, nights filled with nightmares and waking dreams. Sleep that exhausted him more than it strengthened him, in such a way that he couldn't even fight it when it claimed him again and it claimed him faster and for a longer time each night, sometimes even during the day.

Those first nights after his return to Arda had ripped his newly won life from him so fast he hadn't even gotten the chance to marvel at the fact that he had been returned nor take in any of Imladris' beauty.

There had been no tranquility to be found for Glorfindel in Elrond's peaceful valley. Only pain. More pain than he had felt even in death.

No sleeping draught, no medicine, no gentle words, nothing had eased this pain.

Each night the shadows had massed together, so much darker than storm clouds, so much more alive. As though beasts commanded to hound him by some unknown, dark force. They had lain in wait, ready to assault him once more as soon as he was alone.

They had grown impenetrably dark, deep and thick, suffocating.

Almost constantly the echo of fire had roared in his ears. It had burned his skin and his mind, all over again, each night anew.

He had seen them die. And it wouldn't stop. He could not escape. He could not forget. He could not hide. He could not... there was nowhere for him to go and nothing he could do but bear it. And he had hated life itself for it. He hadn't wanted to live anymore and he had cursed the Valar... But they would not take him back and he had stayed, stayed and suffered. Alone. Every night.

Glorfindel soon had arrived at the conclusion that the Valar must have had decided to punish him.

Until, one night, a song had reached him in his lonely bedroom, surrounded by death and fear, eyes wide, yet unseeing, sweating, yet cold... so terribly, terribly alone.

A song.

"There... and I thought I left the music behind..." He had whispered to himself and smiled, he hadn't known why, smiled for the first time since his rebirth.

It had been a quiet song. Gentle, soothing, a silent trickle dousing the flames threatening him one by one, embracing him like deep water did when one lay perfectly still, drifting on the surface.

It had been the first night Glorfindel had slept, a deep, dreamless healing sleep.

The next day he had decided to live.

Searching for his minstrel and finding him in the small garden next to his window, he had started to enjoy life again and to be grateful to the Valar for this bright, new chance given to him.

Lindir had been so beautiful in the early morning light, tuning up the harp he had played the night before, long hair cascading loosely over his shoulders, white like sea-foam, eyes deep and knowing and a smile that made Glorfindel's heavy heart feel light again.

Glorfindel had not just fallen in love that very moment –in fact, he had fallen in love with the minstrel's song at night before ever laying eyes on him—he had made a silent vow to himself to defend and to protect Lindir with all his might and forever, no matter if his love was returned or not. If his new life held any meaning at all it was this. He would protect what was pure and good -And Lindir was.

Not to mention that Lindir had turned out to be the sweetest creature Glorfindel had ever known.

Their love did not work out, though. It didn't matter. They did well as friends and Lindir's music chased Glorfindel's demons away.

On the other hand, Glorfindel's stories served well enough to inspire Lindir's songs.

With Lindir at his side Glorfindel could breathe again and live.

Life was so beautiful! He had quite forgotten how beautiful.

With Lindir's gentle care and easy company Glorfindel slowly but steadily had turned into very much the happiest elf in all Arda, at least to his own perception.

A happiness, he had realized with great irritation, that seemed to annoy certain inhabitants of Elrond's beautiful valley. Or rather: one of them.

Erestor scrunched up his nose whenever Glorfindel happily hummed the melody of one of Lindir's songs. Especially so, when the melody in question happened to be the one that had saved him from finally slipping into insanity that fateful night. (Though Glorfindel never managed to reproduce the song quite as he had heard it.)

Music almost seemed to make the somber advisor physically ill.

Glorfindel had even seen him get up and leave before the bards had started to play after the evening meal or at festivities –if ever he attended.

But the one incident Glorfindel would never forget and could not forgive had occurred when Lindir, one especially rainy day, had surprised them during breakfast with a magnificent, little performance that had managed to brighten the mood of even the most depressed of them – all except Erestor.

Erestor had stared at him, thunderstruck and what could only be described as absolutely, utterly horrified.

The moment Lindir's performance had been over and the spell he had woven slowly faded away, Erestor had gotten up. He had gotten up so abruptly he had pushed over several cups on the table before him.

His gaze directed at Lindir... there could be no other word for it than hatred.

Erestor had stormed out of the room without a word and without turning back, leaving a very distraught minstrel behind.

It had taken the combined efforts both, Elrond and him, to calm Lindir down.

Between tiny sobs Lindir had confessed that he had composed the song for this occasion especially and that it had been meant as a begetting-day present –for Erestor.

There was no doubt. Elrond's Chief Advisor was efficient and Glorfindel could see why he was admired for his work, but he was a terrible person, ruthless and utterly cruel.

It was good he had no friends.

He deserved no friends.

Even Erestor's relationship with Elrond seemed everything but harmonious at times. So much so that Glorfindel wondered why Elrond would keep someone like Erestor around at all.

And now Erestor even meddled in their private life, prohibiting him to accompany Lindir on his journey and keep him save.

Couldn't his duty to Imladris wait once, just once for a few days?

Yes, it was a short journey, but this time of the year it was terribly dangerous. The region Lindir would travel through could be expected to be swarming with orcs this time of the year – Erestor knew that.

Yet, with Elrond against him there was little to nothing Glorfindel could do.

His honor –and his vow—would not allow him to defy his lord's orders.

He could only let Lindir go and hope, hope that all would go well, hope that his little nightingale would return to them safely.

That too Erestor knew.

And Glorfindel now knew as well.


	2. Chapter 2

As the days passed Glorfindel grew increasingly restless.

He prowled Imladris' hallways like a great cat that couldn't stop walking in circles in its cage. He growled, too, and snapped at whoever approached him without carrying news from Lindir and his entourage.

Glorfindel also could have sworn that the fine hairs at the back of his neck were constantly raised. At least, that was how it felt.

"Stop it." Erestor of all elves told him. "You are unsettling everyone."

"They should be unsettled." Glorfindel retorted ill-humored. "You should be unsettled."

Erestor raised an eyebrow in a way that seemed frighteningly similar to the way Elrond raised his eyebrow when irritated.

"You sent him alone." Glorfindel said.

Erestor shook his head.

"Lindir will return in a few days. I suggest you make yourself useful and take care of that duty rooster you happen to neglect for several days now." That was all, as usual. "It's on your desk. Good day, Captain."

Not without dry amusement Glorfindel realized they had ended up in front of Erestor's chambers and before the dark-haired advisor could slip inside and away Glorfindel put his foot in the door.

To his surprise Erestor resigned and held the door open for him.

Maybe he did feel guilty, after all? Maybe something could be done?

There was a first time for everything, after all.

"Send me after him." Glorfindel demanded striding into the room, displaying a courage he didn't really feel.

"No." Came the curt reply.

Glorfindel didn't know what he had expected to find. He had risked a quick look inside Erestor's private chambers once, long ago, after all. In principle he already knew what Erestor's chambers looked like. Still, he felt almost surprised at the fact that what he saw truly did look normal. Cozy, even, inviting. As though an actual living being inhabited them. Maybe even an elf.

How he would have loved coming here when he had still cared.

Glorfindel took a deep breath.

"Erestor. I know... Lindir is out there and he is in danger. I need to go after him."

"No." Elrond's Chief Couselor said. "You know Lindir is out there and you know 'out there' can be dangerous. You have arrived at a false conclusion, Captain. I will not send you after him, nor will Elrond. And you will not go on your own account. You don't even know where he is at the moment."

Glorfindel watched Erestor shuffle some papers he had spread out over the already too small table meant for occasional meals in privacy.

"But you do." He said with a smile. Erestor was the one who organized journeys such as this one. Of course he knew which route Lindir and the others had taken. "And you can tell me."

"I won't." Erestor replied without looking up.

He seemed in exceptionally good mood this day, allowing Glorfindel in like that and not insulting him once.

Maybe something could be done about the matter at hand after all? Maybe he could be convinced somehow?

"Is there anything else I can do for you? If not I suggest you leave. I've got work to do."

"You always have." Glorfindel brushed him off with what he hoped sounded even to someone like Erestor like friendly teasing.

He had taken to inspect Erestor's collection of ancient weapons. With great care he picked up one of the swords and weighed it in his hands. He drew it and marveled at the fine craftsmanship that must have went into making it—as well as the care into maintaining it that way.

_Such a fine weapon. And still sharp._

"It belonged to my father."

Erestor's voice suddenly way too close behind him startled Glorfindel. He almost dropped the sword.

How could someone move that silently?

It had always vexed him. He was supposed to be a warrior, a captain. It should not be that easy to sneak up on him, but Erestor somehow always managed to without even consciously trying.

_His father's sword._

"And did he show you how to use it?" Glorfindel couldn't resist asking.

"No." Erestor replied, taking the weapon from Glorfindel's prying hands.

"Well... I could." The blond Eldar suggested on a whim. "I could train you. Granted, in the beginning it will be hard as you obviously haven't been exercising for quite some time... You haven't, have you? But even a scribe should know how to properly defend himself. Times are getting darker. And with such a fine weapon in your possession... it would be a shame not to use it. I would do my best to train you. I'm a good teacher. Really, I think this would do you good. I will train you. If you did me a favor and tell Elrond to-"

"My brother did." Erestor interrupted him. "And you will stay here in Imladris."

Glorfindel sighed._  
_

_Oh, well, at least I now know you do have a family._ _I didn't manage to figure that out during all the years I actually cared. Ironic, no?_

So Erestor did have a family. He hadn't been dropped off over Imladris by some ill-humored dragon or a flock of crebain.

At least a brother and a father. Glorfindel grinned. A mother, too, probably.

_Did they sail already? Is that why you have his sword?  
_

"Does it have a name?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"That sword. What is its name?"

Erestor shrugged. "Macil."

"Sword?" Glorfindel repeated. "Your father's sword is named 'sword'?"

_And in Quenya._ He added. _No less._

"He had his sense of humor, I suppose." Erestor said and for a moment Glorfindel thought he saw his fingertips linger on the weapon's sheath, lovingly.

An undefined sadness seemed to creep into his gaze but was gone before Glorfindel could be entirely sure he had really seen it.

"Erestor, why did you allow me into your chambers?"

It seemed such an odd question to ask. But then, no one Glorfindel knew of, not even Elrond, had ever entered Erestor's chambers. Certainly not Glorfindel himself.

"You followed me." Erestor replied matter-of-factly, only to add: "Why ever would I not?"

Oh, Glorfindel could see his mind working. Erestor wasn't Elrond's Chief Advisor for nothing and he did have a reputation of being highly suspicious.

"Did you steal something?" He asked suddenly.

Glorfindel would have laughed hadn't Erestor's hand closed around his wrist hard enough to make him cry out in pain.

"Did you steal something?" He repeated.

"No!" Glorfindel swore, freeing his wrist with more force than he had expected he would need. "Of course not! Why would I?"

Erestor avoided his gaze.

"You never know." He said, more to himself than to his unwelcome guest.

"You saw me walking in and standing here. Only. Exactly here." Glorfindel cursed. "I did not move any farther! You watched me the whole time! You stood right behind me just now! When do you think I could possibly have stolen something? Anything?!"

_Damn it!_

Glorfindel rubbed his aching wrist.

Suddenly elegantly pale fingers were there, gently forcing his own hand away to inspect the damage done. They weren't as soft as he would have expected the hands of a scribe to be, but they were careful and felt pleasantly cool.

"I apologize." Erestor said in a voice so small and forlorn Glorfindel's heart did a painful twist. "That was unnecessary and...It is inexcusable. It will not happen again."

"I sure hope so." Glorfindel said and regretted how harsh it sounded afterwards.

_Grey._

Erestor's eyes were actually grey. The deepest, darkest grey Glorfindel had ever seen.

_Grey with a midnight hue._

"I have some salve..." He began, but seeing Glorfindel shake his head he fell silent. "I apologize." He repeated._  
_

_It's alright. Nothing happened. You didn't mean to hurt me. It was a misunderstanding and a reflex. And it's not as bad as I made it out to be. It's nothing. _Glorfindel thought, but what he said was something else:

"Older brother?"

"What?"

"Your brother. You said your brother taught you how to fight." He specified. "He was your older brother, am I right?"

Erestor nodded, apparently unsure what to say.

"I've heard you have to defend yourself against older brothers." Glorfindel explained. "Luckily I didn't have to put up with one. But I've heard rumors..."

Erestor's hands were still on his wrist, caressing it as if attempting to soothe the pain away.

A pleasant shiver ran down Glorfindel's spine.

Erestor must have felt it. He let go of his wrist and backed away.

_How strange._

"Erestor, the reason I followed you..." Glorfindel began. "I know you don't like me. You've made that quite clear. But Lindir is a kind elf, precious to so many. Do you really wish him harm?"

Erestor's face hardened, turning back into the impenetrable mask Glorfindel had grown used to.

"If harm came to everyone I wish it upon Imladris would be as good as uninhabited." He said in a strangely low voice. "I never said I dislike you, Glorfindel."

It was that last sentence that haunted the blond Eldar.

_No. No, you never_ said _you disliked me._


	3. Chapter 3

Lindir still hadn't returned and Glorfindel felt his heart grow heavier with each day he passed without him.

It wasn't just that Lindir was out there and anything could happen to him.

It wasn't just that Glorfindel hadn't received any news –be them good or bad—and naturally feared the worst. Something that was in and by itself nerve-wrecking enough.

Glorfindel's central problem was that he missed. He missed the friend he loved, the one with whom he had spent most of his spare time for centuries, the one he had never expected to part with at all.

Glorfindel's central problem was simple: Lindir wasn't there.

Without Lindir there was no one who could help him should the nightmares return. No one he could turn to. Elrond's nasty draughts had never done the trick. They had only made him sleepier, weaker.

Glorfindel knew the greater his fear of them returning got, the greater to possibility they would.

He was fully aware of the fact that he shouldn't give in to anxiety.

Yet that only worsened the situation.

Glorfindel no longer was in control of his fears.

This was far from taking on a balrog- a terrible beast, but one that was tangible, one that could be fought hand-to-hand and that could be defeated.

This was different.

To say he was worried sick would have been an understatement.

Glorfindel worried and Glorfindel felt sick, but it went much deeper than that.

In the beginning he had only been anxious for Lindir's return and he had missed him, missed him terribly. He had been angry and restless and feared the worst, like everyone letting a loved-one out of sight and wander into the dangerous wild alone for the first time would.

Yet, despite that he had still been able to push uncertainty and worry aside. At least during the times he needed to concentrate. His performance on the practice field had been embarrassing, but at least he hadn't dropped his sword or accidently killed someone.

Then the sense of foreboding set in.

It was the same sense of foreboding that had told him that fateful day in Gondolin that something hadn't been right, that something terrible had been about to happen.

He had felt it when he had still believed the faint glow in the distance to be the light of the setting sun.

If only he had paid more attention! If only he had acted on it back then!

He had not. No one had.

Gondolin had fallen and Glorfindel with it.

He had failed, failed his king and failed his people. Failed his friends and loved-ones.

But he would not, not ever, do so again.

He would not make the same mistake twice. That was the least he could do.

This time he would act. And if that meant acting on his own authority, so be it.

He would not allow something to happen to his little nightingale.

He had sworn to protect Lindir and Lindir counted on him.

Glorfindel knew, just knew Lindir was in danger and he could not suppress the urge to go after him any longer. It had been stupid to try ignoring his instincts from the beginning. It had been wrong to allow Erestor to have his way. Erestor did not care if Lindir lived or died, if he was hurt, if he returned. Erestor cared for no one.

Glorfindel did.

He knew what losing a life meant –losing many lives.

He still mourned them. After centuries he had never stopped mourning them.

He had never been ashamed of not being able to forget. It had never tormented him. If anything it had made him stronger, more perceptive and more determined.

Lindir would not be the next to be counted among those Glorfindel mourned. Not if he could prevent it. Not as long as Glorfindel of Imladris still moved and breathed.

That was why he sought out Elrond's study that day. Not to ask him, but to inform him and leave.

Glorfindel wore his uniform and traveling cloak, helmet underneath his arm, sword-belt strapped to his hips. His horse was ready, waiting for him. His boots left dirty footprints on the marble floor.

Glorfindel no longer cared for the consequences. Elrond had to understand. Elrond would understand. He would tell him exactly which route Lindir and the others had taken and where best to catch up with them. He would force Erestor to tell him, if necessary.

However, something made Glorfindel stop and hesitate to enter his lord's study.

Another premonition, another instinct warning him.

_What?_

The door to Elrond's study was ajar.

Something wasn't the way it should be. Glorfindel just couldn't pin it down.

It wasn't the door. That it happened to be ajar wasn't unusual. Elrond's door was seldom closed. Elrond didn't like closed doors. He preferred being distracted and disturbed occasionally during his work by the chatter and bustle in the hallway to being cut off the busy comings and goings, the talk, the laugher and music that constituted the very heart of Imladris he was so proud of.

Erestor's door, in contrast, was always closed.

Maybe it had been a sound or lack thereof? Or a fleeting scent? Something in the air?

Maybe it was the time?

Glorfindel had never come to this part of the Last Homely House at this precise time of the day. Usually he dropped by at the height of activity in the mornings or evenings, when the patrols returned of which he often was part. And it did seem unusually quiet all around.

Was it midday already? Was that the reason?

It was due to Glorfindel's nerves being at breaking point as it was that he had even noticed something was off. And it was good that he had. Otherwise he would never have known...

"You are doing it again." He heard Elrond say just as his hand touched the doorknob.

Glorfindel slowly and silently pulled his hand back and listened, heart pounding.

"I don't know what you are hinting at." Came the solemn reply.

Erestor._  
_

_Who else?_

His voice sounded different, though. Glorfindel very nearly hadn't recognized it. It seemed more relaxed than usual, almost casual. Without its usual undertone of constant peevishness it had a totally different quality to it. Warm and mellow, awaking memories of the last golden days of autumn or balmy summer nights in the company of friends and family.

Glorfindel briefly wondered what it would sound like raised in song, but only felt reminded of how much Erestor hated music.

Elrond on the other hand sounded clearly worried.

"When Ereinion died you did the same." He said.

"I don't see how."

"Need I spell it out for you?"

"Humor me."

"I know it was you who made sure I wouldn't fight by his side that day. That I wouldn't be there when it happened. You knew how much I adored him."

"It was plain to see, pityo."

"And you hated him for it."

Erestor's answer sounded strangely exhausted:

"No." He said.

"Continue." Elrond demanded calmly.

"He always struck me as too familiar." Erestor said. "He could have been one of us and you had had enough of our company already. I would not see you hurt unnecessarily anymore."

Apparently for Elrond that was enough of an answer.

"You made sure he wouldn't take me with him." He said. "That I wouldn't be anywhere near him and that I couldn't attempt anything foolish in order to safe him. You know I would have."

"I wonder if it is due to the man-blood in you or the elf that makes you so reckless."

"I still am?"

"Yes, very much."

Elrond's laugher made Glorfindel cringe.

It was just too familiar, to comfortable with someone he shouldn't be that comfortable, that intimate with.

The last time Glorfindel had heard his lord laugh that way had been in the company of Celebrian.

He even remembered the occasion and in any other situation the memory of it would have made him smile.

The dignified lord and lady of Imladris had snuck away from what would turn out to be their last midsummer celebration together, to hide in the shadows and steal kisses like elflings.

"Ereinion Gil-Galad never heeded my advice." Erestor said."He only ever did what he thought best." He paused before adding: "That was his downfall. I am glad it did not become yours as well."

A moment of silence made Glorfindel worry they had noticed him, eavesdropping in the hallway.

The sound of fabric rustling and the silence that followed, however, gave no indication of it, quite the contrary.

Glorfindel dared peeking through the door crack and what he saw made his blood run cold.

Erestor had comfortably settled down on one of the cushioned benches near the window. His hair, normally tied into a tight braid, was lose. His gaze was lost somewhere in the distance outside. He held a steaming cup of what could only be one of Elrond's brews –Erestor was probably the only elf in all Arda who drank them out of his own free will- in one hand.

_Elrond..._

Elrond knelt on the floor beside him, head resting against his Chief Advisor's thigh, eyes dotingly looking up at him while a pale hand absentmindedly caressed his dark head.

"Look at me. You could never lie to me." Elrond said catching that hand in his.

It was a parlor trick: making it impossible for someone to lie by holding his hand, suggesting closeness, trust and the possibility that a lie would be found out immediately by a slight, subconscious squeeze or tremble or a change in temperature.

"Tell me." He said. "You saved my life back then..."

Even Glorfindel's elven ears had problems picking up what Elrond said next. Erestor leaned forward slightly, his lips almost brushing the forehead of his lord.

For a moment Glorfindel doubted he had heard correctly what had been said:

"Are you saving Glorfindel's life right now?"

Erestor sat back up straight again, pulling his hand away from between Elrond's. He turned to look at him with the same empty, black eyes Glorfindel had grown to hate.

"No need to become overly dramatic." Erestor said taking a sip from his cup before putting it down on the windowsill. "The pass is dangerous this time of the year, but it's not the slopes of Orodruin. Had Glorfindel gone with him he would have protected Lindir, though, and he would inevitably have been injured. That is something we cannot afford at the moment. The time in which he will be badly needed draws near. You of all know that."

"Will Lindir—" Elrond started to protest, but Erestor silenced him with one of his usual, curt gestures.

"Glorfindel is needed here." He said. "I am only thinking practical. Apparently no one else does."_  
_

Glorfindel in the hallway clenched his fists.

He barely understood half of what he heard, but what he understood was enough.

It confirmed his suspicions: Erestor had been perfectly aware of how dangerous Lindir's journey would be. He had been aware of it all along and he had sent him along nonetheless. Him! A minstrel! He had sent him on this dangerous mission with nothing but a small escort. More than that, he had made sure Glorfindel would not be there to protect him._  
_

_How can you—how dare you?!_

Erestor had always been aloof and uncaring. He had been cruel, especially towards Lindir, but this, this was something else altogether.

_If something happens to Lindir..._

And Elrond dutifully at his feet? Elrond knew? Elrond agreeing to it all?

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong in Imladris.

Luckily Glorfindel now knew.

And he would not tolerate it.

Whatever Erestor used to make Elrond submit to his will... it would stop. Now.


	4. Chapter 4

Glorfindel pushed the door open.

Elrond and Erestor already stood, turning around quickly to face him - A little too quickly.

They still stood suspiciously close to each other.

However, had Glorfindel not caught them in such an incriminating situation just moments ago, had he not seen it with his own eyes and heard every word, he might still not have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

Them just happening to stand next to each other, under normal circumstances, would not have aroused his suspicions. It would have looked to him like sheer coincidence, to which he would not have paid any attention at all.

He would have assumed, if at all, that they had just been talking to each other, discussing trade agreements or when the next inventory was due. They did work together most of the time, after all, and while Erestor avoided any physical contact with about everyone whenever he could, Elrond had the air of a healer to him.

His touch was different from those of any other. There was something unthreatening and chaste, almost asexual to it. Or so Glorfindel had thought up until this moment.

Naturally, he no longer did.

It was Erestor's body language, however, that gave them away to the attentive observer.

He had stepped forward ever so slightly, in front of Elrond. A tiny gesture, barely noticeable, but easy to read: as if to shield the Peredhil and keep Glorfindel away from him.

It spoke volumes of how things worked in Imladris.

No one ever reached Elrond without taking the indirect route through Erestor's office. And the attempt oftentimes ended there.

_He is holding all the strings._

"Glorfindel." Elrond made to say. "I did not expect you. What brings you—"

Elrond never finished his sentence.

What interrupted him was the loud tolling of bells. Alarm bells high above Imladris, where the outposts overlooked the whole valley to warn, if necessary, of an attack or announce the safe return of one of their patrols after weeks away from home.

All three elves held their breath, counting the strokes.

_Too fast._

The strokes came to fast.

_Too many. Too fast._

This was no joyful homecoming.

_Wounded.  
_

That was what the bells meant.

_Wounded approaching the Last Homely House. Someone in need. Someone in danger. Someone badly wounded. Someone-_

"No..." Glorfindel whispered. "Please...no..."

_Let it not be him! Dear Elbereth! Let it not be him! I cannot live without his music!_ _I cannot live without him! I will lose my mind without..._

Glorfindel's thoughts lost direction.

What happened next happened in a daze.

Glorfindel later did not remember how he had ended up in the courtyard, nor if he had followed Erestor and Elrond or they him or if they even had come down along with him.

He only remembered hurrying down the stairs outside, the gravel underneath his boots, the fallen leaves, the clouds in the sky, unmoving as though time had stopped, the eerie light, elves in grey cloaks, faces he did not recognize because his searching gaze would only allow him to focus on a single one of them, his heart contracting painfully—

"Lindir!"

Lindir with his eyes closed, but opening them with a start as the horse pulling the litter on which he lay stopped. A soundless scream, his face beaten, his tunic soaked in blood.

The scene burning itself into Glorfindel's mind.

His little nightingale.

Glorfindel had seen blood before, too much of it. Yet, never had it made him feel this sick, this helpless and impotent, this disorientated.

He did not know what to do- He. Did not know. What to do.

Elrond was there after all, or someone that looked like him, crouching down beside Lindir, talking in a low, hushed voice.

What did he say?

He talked too fast. Asking Lindir question.

Couldn't he let him be?

He was in pain!

Couldn't he see?

Couldn't he leave Lindir in peace?!

Glorfindel wanted to grab the healer and pull him away, but his body didn't move.

Other elves were there.

Elves were talking all around him, talking across each other. More came, watched. Just stood and watched and talked. Horrified?

Glorfindel could not tell what it was they were saying.

The tolling of the bells. Everything dull, dead-sounding.

Erestor bellowed orders.

Glorfindel bit back a laughing fit.

Of all the elves around it was Erestor's voice that reached him, that he understood.

Erestor bellowing orders. It wasn't such a huge mental leap imagining him on a battlefield, bringing back order, infusing faltering hearts with new determination, making enemies cower in fear. Not to the extent Ecthelion had done it, but alarmingly close.

Glorfindel did not want to admire Erestor.

"Go with them." Elrond's Chief Advisor told him, just that. And Glorfindel found himself nodding, obeying.

As if sleepwalking he followed the wounded being taken to the healing wing.

Lindir was among them, little nightingale.

Glorfindel reached out and touched his minstrel's cold hand for a moment and maybe Lindir smiled at him. He couldn't tell. He wasn't sure. The only thing he knew with absolute certainty was that elves did not feel that cold. They should not. Ever.

Lindir should not feel that cold to the touch. He should not.

Yet he did and the only thing Glorfindel could do was to step back and let others do what they did best, do what they could to help the wounded minstrel.

* * *

The healing wing and it's cold, clean light. The smell of alcohol, herbs, sickness, cleanness. Stink. Terrible, disgusting, sickening stink.

Glorfindel sat with his head in his hands. He shivered, he knew. His hands felt clammy. For some reason he felt disgusted even by himself.

He hadn't even asked how seriously injured Lindir was. He had forgotten.

"What kind of captain are you?"

That scent, so different. Soft, spicy, warm, replacing the stink of the healing wing.

It didn't go well with that voice, though, mocking, hateful even.

"Are you fainting at the sight of a little blood, mighty balrog-slayer?" Erestor asked, leaning over him.

Glorfindel felt lost, so weak, so utterly powerless and terribly, terribly stupid.

_Mighty balrog-slayer._

He had no mind for cutting remarks and biting replies.

He might have had, had he, at that point, still remembered what he had overheard and seen just moments earlier, but he had forgotten. For the moment, at least.

A mistake.

He only lifted his head, mutely meeting Erestor's black eyes.

Those eyes, they weren't as cold and mirror-like as he remembered.

In fact, in that precise moment they seemed to him... rather warm and inviting.

Actually, they weren't even black at all, just very dark. Glorfindel already knew that. He just had forgotten, discovered it anew with wonder.

_Funny._

He blamed it on the fact that he couldn't seem to think straight when suddenly he found himself in Erestor's arms.

He could tell Elrond's Chief Advisor didn't like the situation any more than he did.

He had tensed up completely, muscles tense and hard, far from returning Glorfindel's sudden embrace.

Nevertheless Glorfindel clung to him, desperately, as nausea set in.

Glorfindel could have bet that Erestor had even held his breath, but, frankly, he didn't care.

He needed someone to hold on to or he would fall, he knew. The shadows would return. They were waiting, always waiting, and there was no one else. Erestor was the only one around and the mistake of approaching Glorfindel had been his own.

Then, however, something happened that Glorfindel had not expected. At least, not after embracing for several long moments what seemed to be the stone and ice sculpture of an elf.

Erestor gradually relaxed and slowly, very slowly Glorfindel found himself evolved in surprisingly strong arms, huddled against a warm body that wasn't as hard and unwelcoming as it had seemed in the beginning.

"Hush." A voice he did not recognize whispered close to his ear.

Warm breath ghosted over his cheek and a heartbreakingly gentle hand stroked his arms. Clumsily at first, like someone afraid of dogs would pat a great wolf if his life depended on it.

Carefully he was lifted up into a standing position.

His knees were weak.

"My helmet." He remembered for some reason. "Where is my helmet?"

"You left it in lord Elrond's office." Came the reply. "You won't need it now. Come."

Glorfindel felt himself being steered down the hallway and into a one of the chambers especially set aside for those who needed healing.

It was spacious and airy, light curtains billowing in front of high, arched windows leading out onto a wide, open terrace probably catching the sunlight at almost every hour of the day—just not at the moment.

The chamber was dimly lit, blue shadows luring Glorfindel's mind into a much more pleasant state of semi consciousness.

He could hear the falling waters just outside, hushed voices in the distance.

"Lie down."

Glorfindel felt himself being lowered onto a divan near the windows.

A few moments later a cup was pushed into his hands and the simple order: "drink" made him swallow its content.

He should not have, but he was thirsty and tired and not in the mood of offering much resistance.

At least he recognized the taste.

Elrond had prepared a similar draught for him during his first years in Imladris, during the time when he had not yet known Lindir. It had been meant to calm him down.

_Honey._

There was honey in it. Elrond had never used honey to sweeten it.

Glorfindel smiled gratefully before the cup was taken from him and he was made to lie down.

"It is not a fatal wound." The voice he did not recognize, but that vaguely reminded him of Erestor told him. "Nor were any of the others. We did not lose anyone today. Lindir will be well."

A hand that could not possibly be Erestor's rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"Cold." Glorfindel heard himself whisper.

He felt as cold as Lindir had felt to his touch.

Without a word a blanket was tucked around him.

_Better._ He thought. _Much better._

"Try to relax." He was told. "Let the shock wear off. Don't worry anymore."

"Lindir." He objected weakly.

"Lindir is in the best hands. His wounds were the most dangerous and he has been taken care of right away. They brought him here just in time. He will be well. He is sleeping at the moment. Once you wake up and you have calmed down you may go see him. He is next door."

Something touched his forehead and Glorfindel in his hazy mind imagined it to be a kiss.

_Poisonous kiss._

A tiny voice in the very back of his mind reminded Glorfindel that Erestor could not be trusted. It urged him to be careful. It told him to not fall asleep while Elrond's dark advisor was near.

_Stay awake!  
_

But why? What ever could Erestor do?

More importantly: Lindir was safe.

He could relax now. All would be well. All was well.

"If you need anything a healer will be—"

"Erestor." Glorfindel slurred. "I have a request."

He didn't have to see the raised eye-brow to know it was there.

"There is something... Lindir used to sing for me. I would like-"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish." Glorfindel said. "There is this song. My song. I've been trying..." He started to hum the melody. It wasn't such a difficult melody, but somehow it wasn't right the way he hummed it. This wasn't quite what it had sounded like when he had heard it that night. "I can't seem to find it."

Glorfindel tried to sing his song, but he only remembered the first few words.

A curse broke his concentration. Something hit the floor and was smashed to pieces. Erestor yelped.

More or less all of it at the same time.

"Clumsy. You cannot be an elf." Glorfindel mused. "If you are afraid of music."

Why would anyone be afraid of music?

If only he weren't so tired.

The words: "Lindir will be well." made Glorfindel smile as he lost battle against drug-induced sleep claiming him.

_My little nightingale._


	5. Chapter 5

Glorfindel's dreams had been pleasant.

His awakening, however, was not.

What woke him was Lindir's voice. Still half-asleep Glorfindel smiled upon recognizing it. His little nightingale had returned to him. Lindir was safe.

Yet his smile didn't last.

What Glorfindel had heard and what had woken him was not what he had hoped or even expected to hear. His minstrel's voice sounded hoarse, strained and far from belonging to the joyful, talented singer Glorfindel cared for so much.

It was loud, that was all it was, easily reaching him from the other side of the wall and over the thundering of the falling waters outside. Loud, yet strangely distorted. There was nothing melodic left about it. No gentle, clear timbre, no beauty.

Instead it sounded angry, desperate. Desperate and frightened.

Glorfindel sat up alarmed, instantly wide awake.

Lindir was not alone, he could tell. There were other voices, several of them, in fact, but they were hushed. One of them must have said or done something that upset the minstrel even more.

A different voice became louder.

A small, pain-filled groan from Lindir turned into a string of words Glorfindel did not understand, but also didn't need to understand. Insults. Those Glorfindel could identify without understanding them. The tone used to deliver them left little to no doubt as to their intended meaning.

Glorfindel dragged himself up into a sitting position.

Instantly nausea threatened to push him back down. He clung to the divan's back-rest, fighting with his own weight, cursing under his breath.

His head felt as though he wasn't meant to be getting up for several hours more.

He had been meant to remain asleep.

Trying to pull himself together and failing miserably Glorfindel blinked against the bright sunlight streaming through the open windows, unable to discern how much time had passed and even doubting for a moment that he knew where he was.

It must have had rained while he had been asleep. The curtains didn't move, heavy with moisture and wet on their rims. Only occasionally a small gust of wind made them flap half-heartedly, like a dying bird that had accepted its fate.

Glorfindel could smell the rain, dead, wet leaves and cooled down stone. The air felt dirtier. The sound of the falling waters had turned from a comforting ripple into a roaring noise, drowning out most of what was said next door, leaving only the tone of a steadily more heated argument.

The voices grew louder and less coherent with every passing moment, adding to Glorfindel's concern.

"Ungrateful—How dare you speak—"

Glorfindel concentrated hard. Until, finally, he could make out at least some of the words that were being used.

At least one of the arguing parties spoke in something suspiciously similar to Quenya, which explained why Glorfindel hadn't understood his words right away. He had not expected to ever hear a dead language being used so freely and fluently in Imladris. Also, the pronunciation used differed from what Glorfindel remembered.

"Your own fault—should have—long ago!"

"You—murderer that's what you are! I know! I was there! Nothing-"

A joyless, hateful laughter.

"No!"

Suddenly Lindir cried out in pain.

Without thinking twice Glorfindel pushed himself up.

As soon as he stood, however, his knees gave in and he found himself, half-naked, on the cold floor. It was covered in spray from what must have been more than just heavy rainfall, yet somehow had failed completely in waking him up.

This wasn't right.

Glorfindel's head spun and his mind reeled.

Erestor had made him drink something, he remembered, something that had reminded him of Elrond's nasty tranquilizers, but that had somehow been different.

_I knew I shouldn't have trusted him._

With trembling hands Glorfindel reached for his face and rubbed his eyes and temples, trying to shake off the haze that didn't even allow him to think straight as much as he could.

He had trouble breathing and for a short moment his heart beat too fast.

Amidst all of that Glorfindel could only think of one person capable of insulting someone in fluent Quenya.

Erestor was with Lindir.

Erestor was the one arguing with him.

The one who had already caused Lindir enough harm.

The one who would only hurt him more, maybe already had.

Glorfindel had known all along, yet it still baffled him:

_You hate him. Why do you hate him so much?_

What else had Elrond's Chief Advisor done now? What else was he capable of?

_How could I leave Lindir alone with him? How could I forget...  
_

Erestor must have had plenty of time with Glorfindel out of the way. So close, yet utterly useless, oblivious and unable to interfere. Sleeping while Lindir needed him.

_Was that why you drugged me? To get me out of the way?_

Glorfindel gritted his teeth.

_And I made it so damn easy for him... I have to-_

Feeling sick to the core Glorfindel managed to get to his feet again.

He stood, unmoving, waiting for the vertigo to subside.

_This is..._

A pain-filled scream ripped Glorfindel out of his stupor.

Memory returned with such force that he nearly lost his balance again.

Lindir had returned. Lindir had been wounded. Wounded during a mission Erestor had sent him on. Without sufficient guard. The healing wing. Before that. Elrond and Erestor. He had seen them. He knew now. Erestor had-

More insults could be heard from the other side of the wall. Lindir's voice became insistent, begging. Then, more and more desperate, breathless.

"If my mere presence... If you hate me that much...why don't—"

A muffled cry, something falling to the ground, breaking.

Glorfindel tensed.

His feet were bare, he realized, and his sword-belt was gone. He found only his boots near the divan where he had slept.

This undoubtedly was Erestor's doing.

_He has taken my sword._

Glorfindel had to reach for the wall to support himself.

Another scream, smaller, much smaller.

_Lindir._

Sobbing, almost too silent to hear. A strangled cry directed at no one.

Glorfindel's eyes widened. Hastily he reached for his boots. At least the dagger he kept in one of them was still there.

Already in the hallway he struggled with pulling it out of its sheath. When he finally managed to free it he let boot and sheath drop to the ground, keeping only the dagger itself.

Another wave of dizziness made him stumble against the doorframe, struggling to catch his breath.

He wasn't the only one alarmed by the screams. Two of his soldiers came rushing in with him.

When they saw what was going on they stopped dead in their tracks.

A group of healers and some of their assistants was already there. Yet they only stood there, watching horrified, keeping their distance. Not a single one of them interfered.

Lindir was there. His chest covered in thick, white bandages. The bruises on his arms and face much darker, now that blood and grime had been washed off. A stark and painful contrast to his pale skin.

Yet he was not, as could have been expected, in bed, but standing and with his back against the wall. Erestor stood in front of him, sword in hand. Glorfindel's sword.

Lindir slumped over slightly, holding his side with both hands. Blood slowly started to seep through the bandages, staining his fingers.

"Arrest him!" Glorfindel ordered his men.

They did not move.

"I order you to arrest Chief Advisor Erestor and take him to his chambers. Confine him there. Take his weapons. All of them. Make sure he does not get any chance to escape! Now!"

His soldiers gave no sign they had understood. Finally they looked at him, then averted their eyes.

"Get lord Elrond!" Glorfindel bellowed.

No one reacted.

Realization came slowly and Glorfindel cursed.

They would not go against Elrond's confidant. Under no circumstances would they dare lay hand on Erestor. They respected—No, they feared him and his influence too much.

_Then I have to do it myself.  
_

Without thinking twice Glorfindel pushed his way through the useless crowd of onlookers.

"You really should have died!" Erestor spat at the same time.

He let go of Glorfindel's sword. It clattered to the ground.

"Take care of him." He ordered the healers, before turning on his heels and brushing past Glorfindel as though he hadn't even noticed him.

Finally some of those present started to act, rushing to help Lindir back to bed, fussing over his wounds.

_Too late._ Glorfindel thought bitterly. _Fools! Cowards!_

He rammed his dagger into the thick wood of a nearby medicine table. He didn't need a weapon to deal with someone like Erestor.

With one last look, convincing himself that Lindir was being taken care of, he went after Elrond's Chief Advisor, decided to put an end to Erestor's scheming. Once and for all._  
_

_You have had your way for far too long._


	6. Chapter 6

Erestor walked fast, without turning or looking back once, but he didn't walk fast enough to escape Glorfindel, once dizziness gave way to red, hot anger.

He might not have been able to get away even had he run.

Glorfindel caught up with him in just a few, quick strides. And once he did he grabbed Erestor's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and shoved him against the next wall, face first.

"What did you just say to Lindir?" Glorfindel hissed, pressing himself to Erestor's back, immobilizing him. "What else did you tell him? What else did you _do_? Have you completely lost your mind now?!"

"You are overstepping your bounds, Captain." Erestor replied with an apparent calmness so absolutely unbefitting the situation that it made Glorfindel's blood boil. "Unhand me immediately."

Glorfindel ignored the request. It was easy. Erestor did not struggle. He only demanded. That was all he ever did, commanding, ordering, demanding. And expecting obedience even from lord Elrond himself. As though he, not Elrond, were lord of Imladris and a mighty ruler of old. Not just some constantly ill-humored, untalented and unimportant pencil pusher who could and would never rise to anything but and took his frustration out on all the wrong people.

"Overstepping my bounds?! After what you just did? Do you think me blind?!" Glorfindel was fully aware of the fact that his tight grip hurt the smaller elf. He knew he was further hurting Erestor by using more and more of his full body-weight to press him against the wall. "Or still drugged?" He suggested sardonically.

He wanted to hurt him.

"If Lindir—"

"What happens between Lindir and I is none of your business." Erestor's voice didn't even waver.

Not yet.

"None of my business?" Glorfindel repeated. "You used my sword to threaten him! You used my sword! To hurt my friend!"

Erestor huffed.

"He is my friend!" Glorfindel said again. "He saved my life. He is under my protection. If you hurt him, you hurt me."

Pulling Erestor's head back by the hair until his neck was arched far enough to be more than uncomfortable Glorfindel for the first time noticed a hint of fear in those otherwise empty, dark eyes.

And he reveled in it._  
_

_I will make you feel. You'll wish you truly were as heartless as you pretend to be._

"Glorfindel. Let. Go." Erestor demanded one more time, a shred of insecurity finally audible in his voice. "You are hurting m—"

A sharp intake of breath as Glorfindel pushed his head back down and Erestor's forehead hit the wall hard. No scream, just that sharp intake of breath and a thin trickle of blood, smeared over his skin. Skin that had probably never before been covered in blood.

Curiously Glorfindel slid his hand around Erestor's neck and turned his head toward him, caressing his throat and jaw while he did. He inspected the flushed face, emotions finally starting to flicker like specks of sunlight across it. The darkness in Erestor's eyes appeared a little more clouded that usual and slowly, slowly his eyes started to swim.

_Tears._

Erestor breathed through his mouth, his breath hot against Glorfindel's fingers.

Glorfindel smiled.

"I don't know what you are scheming, but I know Lindir is part of it and that you will hurt him. I will not allow it. Do not think I didn't notice how much you hate him. How much you envy him. Is that the reason why? Envy?"

Erestor did not reply.

"So you truly are that simple." Glorfindel said. "I tell you now, remember it well." he continued. "If you dare go near him another time and if you hurt him again I will make you regret it in ways you cannot even begin to imagine, Chief Advisor Erestor." He growled. "Is that understood?"

Erestor trembled ever so slightly against him, he could tell.

He trembled. Never before had Glorfindel imagined Erestor would tremble because of him, because of anybody. Yet he was.

This small creature, warm, trembling, heart beating fast, breath... Glorfindel circled Erestor's waist with his free arm, drawing the smaller elf against him, less violently this time, but forceful still.

Yes, trembling, heart beating fast.

Glorfindel instinctively ground his hips against him.

Breath coming in small gasps.

Yes. Something so small, so wild, like a trapped animal, fearing to be broken, tamed, so very much alive. Erestor had never appeared so very much alive to Glorfindel. He was beautiful like that, disheveled, precious, endearing, tempting.

Oh, how tempting!

But Glorfindel wasn't done yet. This was more important:

"Is that understood?" He repeated and gave an experimental thrust.

Erestor moaned.

"Yes." He breathed.

Glorfindel's body was on fire, he couldn't deny it. His mind dangerously close to flipping over and letting his instincts do the rest. Leaning down he inhaled the dark advisor's unique scent. This warm, softly spicy scent that now mixed with fear and arousal.

_Unbelievable._

For a moment he almost wanted to believe that Erestor had done everything he had done just to draw him out and set up this very situation they were in now. Erestor in his arms, caught, unwilling to yield and yet not seriously struggling at all.

_No. You will not fight me. You want me. You'll obey me. I will teach you._

"If something happens to Lindir and I find out it was your doing –and I will find out, have no illusions- I swear I'll—"

This time Erestor silenced him and with his hands trapped between the wall and Glorfindel's body he did so in the way Glorfindel least expected: He kissed him.

"Don't." Erestor warned and just for the duration of a heartbeat Glorfindel felt his slighter body molding itself perfectly against his own, stirring something deep inside him that should not, should never be affected by a situation such as that.

He spat out demonstratively.

"Don't swear." Erestor continued unimpressed, his face too close, his breath too warm. "You know where oaths lead." A soft chuckle- so perfectly sensual, so completely unheard of- that went straight down to his groin and made Glorfindel realize with a start that he had never before been that close to this particular elf—an elf he had admired upon first seeing him and come to hate soon after- nor had he noticed that his initial attraction towards the other was still there, hiding in the back of his mind, somewhere deep in there, where his most feral instincts lay.

"I do." Erestor said.

It didn't matter what he said. Glorfindel listened. The soft timbre of that strangely beautiful voice enthralled him.

Why didn't it always sound like that? Why did it have to be hardened beyond recognition by lofty arrogance and open disdain?

Everything could be different if-

Erestor himself broke the spell.

"You are a dimwit." He said coldly. "If Lindir were to die—let us say: killed by orcs or slipping, hitting his head, accidently, of course- I could hardly be called a kinslayer. Yet, if you killed me in revenge it would undoubtedly make you one."

Glorfindel stared at the strange creature before him, unable to recognize Elrond's somber Chief Advisor in it any longer.

_Kinslayer._

The word had come over Erestor's lips as easily as any other.

"How can you—" Glorfindel started.

"Kinslayer?" Erestor repeated and the chuckle, emitting from somewhere deep inside him, was as disdainful as it was bitter. "Kinslayer." He repeated. "It's just a word, mighty balrog-slayer. Yet it scares you, doesn't it? It scares all of you. You think you know what it implicates. But in truth you know nothing at all. What do you think happened... at Alqualondë. Doriath. The Havens of Sirion. You were not there. None of you flinching now, shunning, distancing yourselves, pretending to be above it. Hypocrites! None of you were there."

Glorfindel realized with growing horror that there was nothing he could say or do to make Erestor stop. Instead of having trapped Elrond's Chief Advisor Erstor had trapped him and every word he hauled at him stung. His mind didn't find the words to object. His tongue didn't move, his mouth didn't open. His breath caught in his chest and his body refused to obey him any longer.

"Tell me." Erestor said. "You are a warrior, are you not? How many lives have you taken?" He shifted against Glorfindel, firm backside suggestively pressing against him. "How many have you... slain? Goblins, trolls, humans... Balrog?" Glorfindel barely suppressed a loud moan as Erestor bucked against him. "They too were alive before you killed them, weren't they? They were conscious. They were aware of what happened to them. They felt. Fear. And pain. They suffered and hoped. And fought. And died. Do you know whom they left behind? Do you even care? You, too, are a murderer, Glorfindel. The 'kin' makes no difference."

Glorfindel swallowed hard.

"The Teleri—"

"Attacked first."

"Dior—"

"Of Doriath. Beautiful to look at. Was a coward. A thief. Half-man. Descendant of thieves and a murderer."

"And at the Havens of Sirion? Have you read about them as well and memorized it? There is no truth you could twist there, is there? Elwing—"

"Abandoned her two, under-aged children!" Erestor screamed and Glorfindel thought that he had never before witnessed an outburst of such immense hatred.

Erestor would not listen to him, that much had become clear. He had constructed his own version of history and his own, perverse sense of morality to justify... what? Becoming a kinslayer?

_He cannot. That is impossible! Elrond would know. He would have recognized... Elrond would never allow-  
_

"Haven't you noticed at all?" Erestor asked. "That there is always a reason?" He shook his head slowly. "I wasn't done yet, was I? What of orcs, Captain? Have you hunted them? Have you shot them, stabbed them, uncaring if they posed a real thread or not? Not caring enough to face them in combat, just...slaughtering them from a safe distance with your arrows, giving the command? Have you tasted their blood? It is black, isn't it? But blood nonetheless. Lives taken, Glorfindel. How many?"

Nausea returned and Glorfindel let go of Erestor, taking a hasty step backwards.

"Orcs were elven once, it is said. Carnistir certainly was, despite what some might say. Tyelkormo, Atarinkë, Ambarussa. You know those names, don't you? I know you can read, even if you seldom do. What of those you don't know? The names you have never heard of, because no book ever mentioned them and no song kept them alive? What of those? I know their names! All of them! Their murderers still call themselves just!"

Glorfindel took another step backwards.

Erestor's shoulders shook. If in laugher or sobs Glorfindel could not tell.

"At what point, tell me, are others no longer 'kin' and... butchering them... turns into heroic deeds?"

Voice turning into a low whisper Erestor added: "How ridiculous, how pathetic to make a distinction at all."

He turned, dark and terrible like only a poet without a voice could be, sizing Glorfindel up triumphantly.

Glorfindel shivered under his gaze.

What had been random pieces before fell into place.

"Lindir is Telerin." He breathed horrified, reaching for his sword that wasn't there.

Erestor grinned.

"Indeed." He said.


	7. Chapter 7

Lindir blinked confused and smiled as he recognized Glorfindel sitting on a chair next to his bed.

"Good morning." The blond Eldar said and Lindir's smile broadened.

"You shine." He said dreamily. "White and golden. I would have loved to see you in Gondolin before the fall, when it stood proud and fair, with you her guardian. You shine, Glorfindel. I have never seen such goodness in anyone else." Laughing at Glorfindel's puzzled expression Lindir tried to sit up."Good morning." He said and grimacing sank back into the soft pillows.

"How are you feeling?" Glorfindel inquired worriedly.

"As though an orc stabbed me." The minstrel replied. "Oh, wait."

When Glorfindel didn't laugh his face fell.

"It is but a scratch." He hurried to say. "I'll be fine in no time."

He studied Glorfindel's expression and rightfully decided the blond Eldar was not convinced.

"Tell me of Gondolin when you were one of her guardians." He asked for the first time. "I have heard so many things and I bet half of them are false, while the other half is made up more cleverly."

The corners of Glorfindel's mouth twitched.

"Guardian." He said. "They made fun of me. What guardian I was, afraid of the dark and my own shadow."

"Was that why you chose the golden flower as your emblem?"

Glorfindel nodded. "It symbolized the sun. I wanted that."

"A source of warmth and energy, life and happiness." Lindir said for him. "In the light of which vile creatures are bereft of their powers or dared not use it, and all demons and all shadows flee. Nightmares, too, melt and are forgotten."

It was much simpler than that.

"After the Helcaraxë I wanted warmth."

That was all there was to it.

"But it suits you well." Lindir maintained. "Have you never noticed the effect you have on others? Or even the vile creatures when you fight them? You are like a ray of sunlight." He reached out and briefly caressed the side of Glorfindel's face. "You are a hero. Don't look so abashed. What is it?"

"I am no hero." The balrog-slayer said, leaning his face against Lindir's hand.

He feared saying what he would say next, but he knew that if anyone Lindir would understand:

"When I was an elfling I idolized Fëanor. He was such a magnificent elf, strong, proud and awfully talented. I wanted to become like him when I grew up. Fearless and renowned, a warrior and craftsman and excelling at it both."

He looked up, already expecting a reaction, but Lindir just looked at him and nodded him to continue.

"I saw him but once, close up. Him and his sons. They were passing through, lightly armored, but with their horses bejeweled and adorned with the insignia of their house. Their banners flying. It was breathtaking." He laughed. "Even the horses must have looked more self-confident than me. Someone had placed me in the front row and I was so nervous shortly before they would pass me by that I attempted everything to escape. They wouldn't let me through and I was trapped. I must have said something or maybe I accidently hit someone, but I was pushed so hard I fell. I landed directly in front of Fëanor's horse and it nearly trampled me. 'Look, now they already throw themselves at your feet!' someone said and laughed. Fëanor didn't. He just looked down on me. Then he rode on and I..." Glorfindel shrugged. "I cried. I could hear them making fun of me: 'Oh, now he has made it cry!', 'You broke her heart!'. I have never felt so ashamed in my life and I wanted it to stop so badly. But it didn't stop. The tears just kept on flowing, my nose ran and I started to hiccup, too. Miserable. The fact that I had scraped my knees didn't matter, but it hurt here." He touched his chest and Lindir nodded understandingly. "But suddenly someone reached out to me, took hold of my chin and lifted my head up. I must have been such a sorry sight... I remember those hands, strong, but trying to be gentle and not soft at all, rough and hardened. I remember dark hair and the blue and dark-gold fabric he wore, the high boots. He seemed so much taller than me. I remember Maedhros' face and how he looked at him and at me only a few steps away, holding the reigns of both their horses. He had gotten off his horse, you see."

"Maglor." Lindir guessed.

Glorfindel nodded. "Maedhros and Maglor truly were the most kind and gentle of Fëanor's sons." He said. "Maglor brushed the tears off my face. You can imagine, they stopped falling immediately due to the shock alone. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled something out that he gave me and that I kept until the fall of Gondolin where it was lost. I wager Nerdanel, his mother, had made it. It looked like a real bird, very much, so lifelike, but it wasn't. It wasn't a real bird, only a small figure. It could sing, though. I don't remember the melody... it always comforted me, sang me to sleep... I was a coward and I remained it." Glorfindel sighed. "And I kept on adoring Fëanor. Maybe I idolized him even more after that incident."

Glorfindel looked Lindir in the eye fearfully.

"Were you at Alqualondë?" He asked him for the first time.

Lindir nodded.

"I was there, too." Glorfindel said.

"It's in the books." Lindir said. "It says you were reluctant, but that you served Turgon loyally and so you went. You took no part in the kinslaying."

"No." Glorfindel whispered. "No I did not. But the reason wasn't that I was so virtuous and good... You were there, nightingale, I could have saved you."

"I was but an elfling. I hardly remember what happened that day. And I survived, as you can see." Lindir said lightly.

"No. I should have seen it was wrong and protected those that needed protecting. I should have done something...other...all I did was hiding. I didn't even dare to watch...I was afraid of fighting. That was the only reason I didn't take part in the kinslaying. It wasn't my sense of moral or my righteousness that prevented me from becoming a kinslayer as well. I was too afraid." His heart sank. He no longer dared looking his friend in the eye.

Lindir chuckled and Glorfindel looked up bewilderedly.

"I think it's a good sign to be afraid of something like that." He said. "You still are and always will be my hero. See." He explained with a warm smile. "You could have killed a hundred balrogs and fought as many dangerous battles, it wouldn't matter. Courage is not the same as being coldhearted."

Glorfindel let his head sink down on Lindir's lap. He felt strangely exhausted.

"Here you are." Lindir said. "Protecting us every day. You were returned into a time so different from everything you knew and you never doubted once that it was the right thing to do. Even with the nightmares you had, you stayed. You fought them bravely and you won. You offered lord Elrond your sword and loyalty and the dark creatures flee from you wherever you go... You worried about me and you are here now." The minstrel bent down and placed a chaste kiss on Glorfindel's head. "You are my friend. That takes courage, too."

Glorfindel laughed. "It takes no courage at all." He said. "It's easy to like you."

"To like me, maybe." Lindir countered. "But to stay with me? I don't have many friends, Glorfindel. I'm an artist, you know, we get insufferable at times. We do strange and stupid things for our art." Something he had forgotten dawned on him and he urgently reached for Glorfindel's arm, pulling him closer.

"Where is Erestor?" He asked. "You followed him, did you not?"

_He is afraid._ Glorfindel thought, lifting his head to look at his friend. _So terribly afraid and I never noticed.  
_

How could he have been so blind?

The thought of Erestor was enough to make Lindir's happiness disappear completely.

Why had he never noticed before?_  
_

_I listed to his songs and I made him comfort me. I took his cheerfulness for granted and never wondered if there were moments in which he was sad, in which he needed someone to comfort him. I never asked.  
_

Glorfindel had needed, depended on Lindir too much, he knew now.

What would have happened, had Lindir stopped smiling, laughing, singing for him and instead had suffered openly? He would not have been able to take it. He would not have been able to handle Lindir's fears alongside his own. Especially in the beginning.

Lindir must have known. And kept everything to himself.

_I greedily took everything he gave and never wondered. I never once asked if there was something that bothered him. I never once asked... what do I know about him?_

They had never before talked about the past. Not about Gondolin, not about where Lindir came from and what he had done before they had met. This was the first time they had ever shared something of their past. All those centuries earlier it hadn't mattered at all. The stories of their long lives had remained untold. They had lived in the present, understood each other without explanations.

Or so Glorfindel had thought.

"Don't worry, little nightingale. He won't come near you again." He told Lindir, gently brushing a wayward lock behind his pointed ear. "I made certain of that."_  
_

_Finally. Finally I can protect you as well as you deserve .And I can be the hero you see in me._

Glorfindel did not regret what he had done. This time he had not been too afraid to fight.

_I should have done so long ago. Forgive me for my blindness, little nightingale. If only you had told me... If only you had trusted me enough. I am stronger now, you know. I do not depend on you any longer. I can finally pay you back your love and kindness._

But then, he had never asked and he still didn't know the whole story.

"Won't come near me again?" Lindir asked doubtingly. He shook his head and his eyes widened as understanding set in. "Glorfindel." His grip on the blond Eldar's arm tightened, grew painful. "What have you done? Where is he?"

"He used my sword to threaten you. To hurt you." Glorfindel confessed dejectedly. Lindir's grip on his arm softened. "It was my sword. He took it from me." Speaking the truth didn't make it disappear, he realized. It only made it more painful. "I should have been there, but...When you returned- When they brought you home wounded and I saw you in the courtyard, carried on that litter... Never in my life have I been that afraid." And that was to mean something. "Not even the balrog frightened me as much as the thought of losing you." Wasn't it pathetic? "I thought I would lose you, little nightingale, I did. I thought I would lose my closest friend. What would I have done without you?" Glorfindel closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. "I am no hero, Lindir, no guardian." He said. "I could not protect my home in Gondolin and with you I very nearly lost my home in Imladris."

Retelling the what had happened next made the anger Lindir's mere presence had calmed down flare up again.

"Erestor was kind, understanding, gentle and reassuring. He took care of me. I fell for it- I should have noticed. Something wasn't right, but I... had no idea. I should have seen through him." But he had not, until it had almost been too late. "He decided to finish what the orcs that attacked you hadn't done properly." Glorfindel laughed bitterly. "I wanted to follow you, right after you left Imladris. I knew something would happen." He said. "Erestor refused. I should have demanded to talk to lord Elrond alone. I should have insisted he let me follow you."

When he finished Lindir was caressing his arm softly.

"Don't blame yourself." He said. "You have done nothing wrong. I knew there would be orcs and that the risk of an attack was high."

Glorfindel couldn't believe what he had heard.

"You knew? And you went on this mission despite..."

"Yes." Lindir said with a weak smile. "I went on this journey willingly. I knew the risk." There were tears in the corners of his eyes but he steadfastly refused to let them fall. "I was being stupid, Glorfindel. You still are my guardian, my friend, the greatest hero I know. The balrog has nothing to do with it."

"It took me too long to realize." Glorfindel objected. "Erestor always hated you and because I could not see why I thought it couldn't be that bad. I didn't see the danger until it was too late." He shrugged. Had he willfully ignored the truth? Glorfindel forced himself to smile. "But it is over now. He is but one elf. He cannot harm you here, not anymore. I have no idea why Elrond would allow someone like him to stay in Imladris, but I'm certain what happened will change his mind. Erestor may be a kinslayer, but he has no power over you. He—"

"He told you?" Lindir's voice had turned into an alarmed whisper.

"No, but I found out." Glorfindel sighed. "Just in time, it seems."

"Just in time for what? What are you talking about?" Frantically? Lindir's eyes searched the room for any signs of immediate danger. "Where is he?"

"Calm down, little nightingale. He cannot harm you. Never again, I promise." Glorfindel caught Lindir's hands in his and placed a gentle kiss on his fingers. "I am here now. From now on I will keep my promise. I will protect you. I'm sorry it took me so long. I did not realize... I've been so blind. Can you forgive me?"

He smiled and Lindir reluctantly returned his smile. Yet his frown deepened.

"I know you keep your promises." He said and his smile vanished, his voice dropped. "Elrond." He said.

"Lord Elrond is a healer, someone who saves lives. He is a just and wise ruler. I do not think Erestor will be able to fool him any longer once he learns what has happened."

"I'm afraid." Lindir started.

"Don't be." Glorfindel told him, but Lindir shook his head.

"I'm afraid... you might have misunderstood something...terribly...please...tell me...what did you do? What happened...after you followed Erestor?"

"I taught him a lesson." Glorfindel replied simply. "That coward didn't even fight back properly."

Lindir flinched violently. His outcry was one of both, disbelief and pain._  
_

_Despite of what he did and how he treated you during all those centuries you still pity him._ Glorfindel thought. _Or do you fear Elrond will punish you? Or me? I don't think he will. Yet if he does I will not mind accepting his punishment and taking the guilt as my own as long as you are safe. It will have been worth it._

"Where is he? Is he badly hurt? Does he need a... a healer? Does- Glorfindel, what did you do?!" Lindir stammered, voice hoarse with fear. "Where is he?!"

"He got what he deserved." Glorfindel tried to comfort the minstrel. "He terrorized you. He hurt you. He meant to kill you! He is a kinslayer, Lindir. Surely you don't sympathize—"

"He is my friend!" Lindir cried, moving violently enough to cause his wound to reopen and bleed.

"Stay quiet. Don't move." Glorfindel warned him. "Your wound!"

"Please!" Lindir begged, stubbornly blinking tears out of his eyes. "Please, whatever you did, wherever he is...please... if he is wounded...please get him to healer! You promised to protect me. You are my friend, too, Glorfindel...please...please don't let him..." A small sob shook him. "I'm so sorry... I wanted... I wanted to apologize..."

"Apologize for what?" Glorfindel failed to comprehend the turn this conversation was taking. "Do not protect him. What happened to him is what he deserved. Yet it has nothing to do with you. It is not your fault. What I did is my responsibility. Do not feel obligated to defend him. He does not deserve it." _Sweet, gentle Lindir. He is not worthy of your compassion._ "You suffered so much because of him. He sent you on this trip and you were very nearly killed. He planned all of it simply because you are Telerin and he—"

"What? No. No, Glorfindel. No! I. I wanted to go. He tried to talk me out of it. He tried to stop me and I would not listen!"

"You told me he was sending you on this mission." Glorfindel maintained.

"I lied!" Lindir cried out. "I lied because I knew you would not let me go if I told you the truth. This journey was my idea! This 'mission' was my own! No one sent me! If I had told you I wanted to go and see those musicians from Rohan, what would you have thought? It's too stupid. Not even an elfling would insist on something like that. But humans sound all the same to me- their music, I mean- and I was told they were exceptional and I... I just wanted to know."

"You told me Erestor was sending you." Glorfindel insisted. Why did Lindir try to excuse any of it? "He hates you. He tried to get you killed."

"He was as afraid for my life as you!"

"Lindir, I was in the room next door. I heard you argue. I saw him pointing my sword at you. Don't be ridiculous."

"We fought." Lindir admitted. "I called him murderer." He sounded deeply ashamed now. "I should not have. Never have. He laughed, but I know I hurt him deeply. I told him he should not have saved me. That I should have died... I said If my presence displeased him that much, if he hated me that much I should just take your sword and stab myself. He had it with him, so I took it. He took it from me. He was so angry, so hurt, Glorfindel! Believe me! He...because I wanted to harm myself!" Lindir cupped Glorfindel's face with both of his hands, pulling him down a little. "Please believe me when I tell you: next to you he is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I owe so much to him. More than just my life. He never..." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Erestor never fights back. He keeps everyone at a distance with words, with his demeanor, but physically, against another elf, he never fights back." Lindir hesitated. "He has always, always taken care of me. He never...please...tell me he is well...please, Glorfindel."

Glorfindel paled.

_Oh Valar, what have I done?_


	8. Chapter 8

When Glorfindel returned to the dimly lit room he had left shortly before visiting Lindir nothing had changed. It was like he had left it.

The shards of broken glass were still there, the curtain ripped down, the sound of the falling waters, more silent than before, the puddles on the floor from the heavy rainfall during his involuntary sleep...the blood. The blood on the floor, on the light fabric of the curtain and on the sheet from the bed he had used to wipe some of it off himself. Even the smell was still there, the heat. He could still feel this particular warm and sticky heat in the air.

It made him sick.

He knew that if he looked closer he would also clearly see the traces of semen, of spittle and sweat and piss...and tears. If he looked just a little closer he would be able to tell where Erestor's hands had clawed at anything he had been able to reach.

Yes, the room was every bit like Glorfindel had left it. Only one important detail was missing.

Erestor wasn't there.

Glorfindel had left him on the floor. He remembered where. In his mind he could still see the smaller elf's body, naked, beaten, abused and bleeding, suddenly, just for a brief moment, so much more fragile than Glorfindel had ever expected to see it, seemingly so easy to break and yet...

"Why didn't you fight back?" He whispered.

Erestor's eyes had flashed furiously in the semi-darkness. The eyes of a predator, not a prey. An ancient creature, proud and strong. The kind of elf that no longer existed, born into days of bliss, bright with the light of the two trees, the Noontide of Valinor, and raised in much darker times, to fight and kill and survive.

Yet he had not fought.

Even afterwards, after Glorfindel had been done with him.

Erestor had gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Glorfindel had seen his muscles tense. He had groaned, but not cried out as he had moved and waves of pain had hit him. He had tried to push himself up one more time. Not to crawl away from his aggressor, trembling and frightened, but to confront him. Mane of dark hair falling unbound over his shoulders, a few stray strands sticking to his face, sweaty and dirty. Swollen face, bloody lips, tearstained cheeks, strained breath.

No, Erestor wasn't weak.

Glorfindel had felt the strength underneath his skin, itself not as soft as could have been expected form a scribe. He had felt the heat that skin radiated, the power hiding deep within. A fëa burning hot and bright and having burned for centuries until it would one day inevitably consume its body.  
Glorfindel had sensed the courage of that fëa.

A courage he himself had always felt he lacked. At least up to that point, up to the point when Erestor had grinned at him triumphantly and Glorfindel had believed Lindir's life at stake.

_Kinslayer._

It had made him furious.

"Why...why didn't you stop me?"

Erestor was smaller than him, but far from weak.

Erestor was also good with words. A few words would have been enough to stop him, to clear up this horrible misunderstanding. He could have stopped it all with a few words -Anything!

Yet what he had done had been deliberately fanning Glorfindel's anger further, threatening him, mocking him, provoking him, encouraging him, strengthening his belief that what he did was right, that he fought an enemy to protect a loved-one.

Maybe he had, in some twisted sense, indeed done precisely that._  
_

_Fought. No. There was no fight. He did not defend himself. I did not let him._

The blood was still there, a reminder making it impossible to deny what had happened.

Crouching down and stretching out his hand without touching Glorfindel wondered if it would still be warm.

_I have to find him._ He thought.

But how? Where start?_  
_

_I have to find Elrond. I have to tell him...what I did..._

Elrond would know what to do. Elrond could find Erestor.

Elrond was a healer. Elrond could heal Erestor.

* * *

By one of his assistants Glorfindel was told that he would find Elrond in the healing wing.

_He knows._ Shot through his mind. _Dear Valar, he already knows._

If Elrond was in the healing wing it could only mean that Erestor was already there.

If not for very difficult cases Elrond tended to not interfere with the healing of the sick and wounded and let Imladris' healers do their work. Only when they didn't know what else to do or when it came to close friends and family, only then lord Elrond himself would attend them.

Erestor was close, Glorfindel had been able to witness that. Though, he still did not know what to make of it. Even less so after what Lindir had told him.

Lindir had called Erestor friend.

Lindir -gentle, carefree and joyful minstrel—had called Erestor –ever somber, uncaring and hateful—friend.

Lindir - a Teleri- had called Erestor- a kinslayer- friend.

Erestor had no friends and didn't care to make any, never had.

Lindir, for his part, had never mentioned Erestor as a friend before, nor had Glorfindel ever seen them together like friends.

On the other hand, Glorfindel had never thought of Erestor and his lord as particularly close either.

_What will happen now?_

Glorfindel couldn't decide whether the idea of finding Elrond in the healing wing with Erestor made him feel incredibly relieved or to the contrary, terribly worried.

He had reason to worry, he knew.

Everything could be over now. He would lose his friends, his home, his name, his life, maybe.

He had attacked not only a fellow elf, an inhabitant of Imladris, but also Elrond's Chief Advisor. Erestor, despite everything, was highly influential. He was powerful. His word more often than not outweighed that of lord Elrond himself.

A terrible certainty began to manifest itself in Glorfindel's mind.

Erestor had provoked him on purpose, ther was no doubting it. Glorfindel only hadn't undestood why.

_Is that how you think to get rid of me?_

The blond Eldar clenched his fists.

Banishment was the least he could expect.

What would happen to Lindir then?

Glorfindel knew he could not ask of his little nightingale to follow him into exile. If there would be anywhere left where he would still be welcome, that was.

But what if Lindir had lied to him? What if Erestor in truth really was anything but a friend to him? What if all of it was part of Erestor's scheming? Someone like him could not be trusted.

_What will happen to me? To us?_

After Lindir's confession Glorfindel no longer knew what to expect.

What if Lindir learned the whole truth of what he had done?_  
_

_Will you fear me? Hate me...you will. You won't say it, but you will._

With each step Glorfindel slowed down a little until he was all but ready to turn around and flee.

However, Elrond had already spotted him.

"Orcs!" The Peredhil called out as soon as he saw Glorfindel entering the healing wing. "Glorfindel! I want you to take as many soldiers as you need and hunt them down. All of them! I will not allow orcs this close to Imladris. I will not allow them to hurt my people! Find them, Glorfindel! Find those beasts! Show no mercy! Now!"

Glorfindel stared at him dumbfounded.

Never during all the time he had stayed at Imladris had he seen her lord this filled with barely contained rage, this determined. Never had he heardElrond raise his voice like that. Never had he seen him truly angry.

"Captain!"

Glorfindel flinched.

"My lord." He started instinctively, only to correct himself when Elrond's eyebrow shot up. "Elrond." He took a deep breath. "There is something I need to tell you."

"It can wait." Elrond decided, contrary to his usual, patient self.

Glorfindel would have objected, had he not, in the very moment he opened his mouth, noticed Erestor, standing on the balustrade above them.

At first glance nothing at all seemed wrong with Elrond's Chief Advisor. Only at second glance the full extent of his injuries became painfully clear. Had he not leaned against the hand railing heavily Glorfindel doubted he would have been able to stand at all.

Yet, despite or maybe because of the state he was in Erestor looked down on Glorfindel with the same, quiet resentment with which Fëanor had regarded him in his childhood memory, after he had clumsily stumbled out in front of his horse.

Glorfindel lowered his head.

_He didn't tell Elrond?_

Was there still some hope left? Could it even be called hope?

When Glorfindel looked back up and Elrond's gaze followed his, Erestor was gone.

"My Chief Advisor has been assaulted by orcs and is gravely injured." Glorfindel got the answer to his unspoken question.

_He told him orcs did that._ He realized caught between horror and shame. He couldn't blame Elrond for believing it. No one in their right mind would believe that what he had done could be done to an elf by another elf.

Was that why Erestor hadn't told Elrond the truth?

Didn't anyone wonder how there could be orcs this close to Imladris? Or why Erestor of all elves would be out there, running into them? Erestor who hadn't taken his horse for a ride for years? Erestor who only ever left his office to go to the library?_  
_

Elrond sighed, rubbing his temples.

"He told me it happened well outside of our guarded borders. However, only slightly close to our borders is still too close. I want them gone. I cannot allow such a threat to my people to persist. And I—" Elrond hesitated, but Glorfindel noticed his clenched fists, the slight trembling of his body.

"You want revenge." He deducted.

Elrond nodded and looked Glorfindel in the eye.

No more words were needed.

The expression on Elrond's face was the same Glorfindel had seen on the twins' faces after they had learned what had happened to their mother. They had spent years in a killing spree, hunting down orcs to avenge Celebrian.

_But Erestor isn't part of your family._

Or was he?

Hadn't he named the twins? Glorfindel had read about it and not believed it.

Maybe it was true after all?

"Erestor." He whispered and Elrond mistook it for concern.

"I do not think he wants anyone to see him now." He said. "He only ever comes to me for help when he can barely crawl. Not being in control like that makes him uncomfortable and asking for help never was his strong point."

"What makes you think I would want to see him?" Glorfindel had asked before he could stop himself.

Elrond only smiled at him sadly.

"Go." He said. "Before more get hurt."

And Glorfindel obeyed.


	9. Chapter 9

Hunting down every orc between Imladris and Lothlórien and as far as the Shire quickly became Glorfindel's way of attempting to redeem himself. Much like it had become the twins' way of coping with what had happened to their mother. Only that in his case he had been the one causing shame and suffering, not some faceless band of orcs. Which rendered his quest futile from the beginning.

Erestor had ridden out with them, the twins, Glorfindel had learned just recently. He and Celebrian had been close and maybe he had wanted to protect the twins from themselves as well.

_How strange._ Glorfindel wondered when he caught himself thinking: _He must have been an apt rider once, to keep up with the twins._

Maybe he owed it to this very thought that he recognized Erestor's blue roan near one of their outposts and turned back before he could be spotted from there.

He only returned several days later, leaving his usual missives for lord Elrond and receiving none in return.

There was no sign Erestor had been there.

Glorfindel chastised himself for his paranoia and resorted to sending one of his men instead of going himself the following times.

After some time had passed he went again himself. Until he had nearly forgotten all about it.

He and his party came closer to Imladris at one point, tracking an especially daring pack of orcs upstream along the Bruinen.

When he spotted the blue roan this time he didn't turn away in time.

Because of the morning mists rising from the nearby river he hadn't recognized the horse at first. When he did, it was already too late to turn away without making a fool of himself. So Glorfindel stayed and waited for the rider to dismount.

To his utter surprise he strode up to Glorfindel and enfolded him in a tight hug. Only then did he push back his hood.

"Twin." Glorfindel breathed out in relief.

Elrond's son grinned.

Elladan and Elrohir had long turned the problem that many could not tell them apart into a virtue and a never ending source of private, quiet amusement.

"It's good to see you." He said. "I bring news from my father."

He handed the considerably sized leather bag that he had carried over his shoulder over to Glorfindel.

"And some others." He added. "You are greatly missed."

"Times are getting darker." Glorfindel said. "Just now we were tracking a pack of orcs all the way up the Bruinen. I cannot remember they ever came this way before."

"Our borders have gotten more dangerous recently." The twin confirmed. "There is men among those attacking us now, too, from the mountains and farther south."

"We are doing our best." Glorfindel felt he had to defend those riding with him.

"Everyone knows you are, worry not." The twin said. "I believe father will call you home, soon. It might be wiser to keep all of our forces close to Imladris in the future and concentrate on protecting our immediate borders instead of..." He hesitated. "Hunting." He finally said with the tone of someone who knew what it meant.

Glorfindel weighed the leather bag in his hands.

The elves making up his small hunting party were sent home and exchanged for fresh forces from time to time. Yet, there were many letters and small tokens of affection from those they had left at home in there for them, he wagered.

"I cannot return." Glorfindel said. "Not yet."

"You can return any time." The twin corrected him. "Imladris is your home, too. Do not forget that."

Glorfindel smiled grimly.

"You ride Erestor's horse." He heard himself say.

"Angrod."

"Angrod?"

"He ran out of horse names worth remembering, he said. So he chose the closest thing to a horse he could think of to go from there from now on." The twin smirked.

Angrod had been their grandmother's elder brother. Later he would admit that they had never known him, but the close relationship alone, in combination with how Erestor tended to react to any mention of Galadriel's politics, left room for speculations as to the name of his next horse. Never minding that according to the name-giver himself he only used the names of dead horses no one remembered, to carefully note them down in several registers afterwards and this way assure them at least some kind of remembrance.

If indeed he had named the twins, that again made one wonder where their names had come from, though.

"I'm just surprised it has a name at all." Glorfindel admitted.

"All his horses had." The twin replied irritated. "He maintains he doesn't like horses, but he rides like the Huntsman of the Valar if you challenge him... He, too, would tell you it is about time you consider returning home."

Glorfindel doubted it, but he did not say so.

Erestor must have had told the twins back then, but he would not tell Glorfindel the same, the blond Eldar was quite sure of it.

_So many secrets..._

Even the name of Erestor's horse.

Elrond's Chief Advisor was an enigma that didn't want to be solved.

After what had happened Glorfindel felt he no longer had the right to try solving it. Yet, that was exactly what he did. Whatever he did, he always returned to it.

Erestor haunted him.

He had interested him before, long ago when he had thought Elrond's dark-haired Chief Advisor could be won over for wine and easy friendship and maybe more. This was different and Glorfindel desperately hoped that the memory of what had happened did not haunt Erestor in the same or even a similar way.

Obsession intermingled with guilt and shame, impotent and filled with burning, voiceless fury.

_Oh Valar, please let him have faded. _Glorfindel caught himself thinking. _Please let him be dead._

He did not dare to ask if he was.

In the evening he handed out the letters to his men, briefly read Elrond's message and burned a letter from Lindir. He could not bring himself to open it for he knew too well what it would say.

His strange obsession with Erestor, however, remained unbroken.

Sometime later Glorfindel learned that Elrond's Chief Advisor had indeed taken his nasty horse—Angrod- for occasional rides and many other before it, all of them gifts from the twins. He also learned that Erestor had habitually used the occasion to hunt for orcs and other vile creatures near Imladris' borders, never returning without being splattered in black blood and covered in cuts and bruises.

He concluded that this was the reason why Elrond had so readily believed his lie.

_Attacked by orcs._

It wouldn't have been the first time.

Maybe another reason for Erestor to tell Elrond this particular lie had been that he had wanted Glorfindel as far away from Imladris as possible? But why hadn't he simply told Elrond the truth then? Maybe it was a quest after all and maybe he was given a chance to redeem himself? Glorfindel clung to that idea.

He pushed himself and his men harder every day.

His mission became his punishment.

Yet the guilt he felt would not fade. If anything it became stronger. Killing a few orcs just wasn't enough. He had to find more of them. Always more. Find more. Kill more. No black blood was enough to cleanse him. Their pain just would not do. It only added to the guilt he carried.

Glorfindel started to let down his guard just so he would get wounded more. He needed the pain. Only his blood would do._  
_

_I know now what you meant._ Glorfindel thought. _When you called it 'ridiculous to make a distinction'. You weren't talking about me then, were you?  
_

It seemed wrong to imagine Erestor as a kinslayer. Harder even to imagine him as a warrior.

Yet he had been both.

"Since Erestor commanded Imladris' forces before you came: How often—daily—did he make you feel just how much he despised you?" One of the marchwarden of Lórien, who had soon turned out to be pleasant company, asked him when he allowed himself and his men a quick rest in the questionable security of the outskirts of the Golden Wood. "You easily snatched his post after he himself must have had worked hard to rise to it for centuries. I bet he hates you with passion now."

Glorfindel, for a long while, said nothing.

He wasn't cold, but he was glad for the familiar weight of his cloak over his shoulders and the shadow its hood cast over his face.

"You know?" He finally asked.

"No more than that." The sentry answered with a shrug. "He was a no-one for most of the time I knew him. The few times he accompanied the lady Celebrian I wouldn't have noticed him at all, had I not seen him talk to my lady once. I found it suspicious that she would offer to walk with a common soldier of Elrond's and decided to keep an eye on him. That was all, though. I would never have thought him to be Elrond's Chief Advisor and Captain of Imladris' forces. Though, the latter he no longer is, apparently." The marchwarden smiled in the falling darkness, his keen eyes watching the plains in front of them with their scarce shrubs and few trees. "The leafs fall early this year." He said. "You should return to Imladris before the first snow."

"I will not." Glorfindel replied.

"Erestor never led from the front, like you do." The marchwarden said. "He didn't socialize with his men and they never saw him on the training grounds. At least not with any of them. It's said he sparred with lord Elrond from time to time... but I have the distinct feeling that might just part of some elaborate joke I forgot."

Glorfindel felt the sentry's eyes on his back.

"Your men love you. They trust you to lead them well, more than they would ever have trusted Erestor... What would they think of you if they learned that you are leading them in your own suicide mission, condemning them to play the casualties on your way?"

Glorfindel tensed.

"Did your lady tell you?"

"No." The marchwarden replied. "You brood so loud I could shoot you in the dark would I aim for it." He lifted his hand in a calming gesture. "Frankly, I don't care why. Return to Imladris, Captain Glorfindel. With your rampage you are stirring up previously calm waters and you endanger those you have sworn to protect."

He should have listened.

Yet he did not.

His party grew smaller and the orcs they encountered more vicious and more numerous.

It was due to his hunting them, Glorfindel realized as much.

He welcomed their hatred and he allowed them to vent their anger before he killed them. Killing that became harder.

And one day Glorfindel simply stopped trying and decided to die.

He had done it once before, after all. It wasn't such a hard thing to achieve.

In the middle of fighting a especially large and surprisingly well organized group of orcs Glorfindel opened his hands and let his sword drop to the ground.

To his surprise the orcs drew back in suspicion. So he lifted his arms and closed his eyes.

The foul creatures snarled at him, drawing back even further.

"You want me! Don't you?! You hate me! You know what I did! You are here to kill me!" He finally screamed at them. "Come on! Have me then! Have all of me!"

And at the same time he marveled at how strange it all was.

Never before had he felt that close to Erestor.

"Kill me!" He roared. "Kill me like I killed your kin! How many did I slay?! How many died at my hands?! I showed them no mercy! Why do you hesitate! Why am I still alive?! How many?! Can you guess?! Do you know?! I am your most formidable enemy! Kill me! Come on! Now! Do it! Do it you worthless scum!"

When the pain of the first blow came Glorfindel laughed. He did not defend himself. He did not fight back. Why would he? This way it would be over faster and his men, those left, could go home.

He had kept them for long enough.

_Go home._ He thought. _Yes. Home._


	10. Chapter 10

Only the final blow never came.

Instead, the high pitched hissing of elven arrows.

Orcs fell around him, their screams filled with rage and deception, and Glorfindel felt his body carefully being lifted up into a half-sitting position.

_I should be dead._ He thought. _I wanted to. This time I wanted to.  
_

Frustration made him want to scream, but the only sound coming from him was a rather embarrassing, little groan.

Instead of being dead he soon found himself comfortably leaning against someone's chest, a familiar face looking down on him.

"Elrond?" He croaked. "What on Arda."

"Your reinforcement." The Peredhil said, grasping his lower arm in a warrior greeting that Glorfindel didn't quite find the strength to respond to as powerfully as he should have. "Erestor sent me to bring you back home."

"E...Erestor?"

Elrond grinned. "At times he orders me to do things I don't necessarily condone. Surely you have noticed."

Glorfindel couldn't take his eyes off his lord.

_I'm seeing things. This can't be real._

Elrond looked absolutely striking in his warrior garb. Much younger, noble and fierce. He also seemed to be more at ease with himself, more in his element than behind his desk at Imaldris. Though he did look majestic there, too.

He was known as skilled warrior, after all, and seeing him like that Glorfindel had no problem at all to imagine him as Gil-Galad's Standard Bearer, a trusted commander, facing and destroying whole legions of orcs without hesitation.

"But you are Imladris' ruler. You should—"

"I have come to collect my wayward Captain." Elrond said, probing Glorfindel's wounds none too gently. "You are missed. The Last Homely House needs your sunny mood to match Erestor's tempests."

Glorfindel bit back a cry.

_So he is alive. He didn't fade.  
_

The truth sank in slowly.

"Hurts." He pressed out. "I thought..." He swallowed hard. "Erestor... didn't fade?"

"I'm sorry, my friend. Now, there you go. Do you think you can get up?" Elrond paused and frowned. He seemed to ponder his reply before asking: "Why would he fade?"

Glorfindel tried to calm his breath and the frantic beating of his heart that had nothing to do with the pain from his numerous wounds.

"Because...of what happened..." He finally managed to say. "...what happened to him."

Elrond snorted very un-lord-like.

"He had worse things happen to him."

Noticing Glorfindel's distraught expression he smiled. "He chastised me for sending you after them, especially after your messengers informed us their numbers were growing." And imitating Erestor in a manner that was truly impressive he added: "A hornets' nest! You stirred up a hornets' nest, you fool! We've already had that! Don't you ever learn?"

Elrond had helped Glorfindel to his feet and put his arm around his captain's waist to support him. His tactic of distracting the blond Eldar from his pain until he could do something about it worked out fine so far. Glorfindel smiled.

"I think he misses your pestering him." Elrond said. "He needs that from time to time, someone testing his patience."

_Testing his patience_. Glorfindel closed his eyes, pushing the thoughts that threatened surfacing to the very back of his mind.

Elrond must have felt something of it. His voice was much more serious when he said:

"I decided to come myself, because I too have a score to settle with these foul creatures. They hurt someone very dear to me."

Glorfindel stumbled. Elrond caught him in time, but couldn't avoid causing the pain to flare up again, leaving Glorfindel breathless.

"I did." Glorfindel pressed before he knew it. "I did. I caused... It's my fault... I..." The words were there, they just wouldn't come out the way he wanted them to, the way he needed them to.

"So much pain. I caused him. So much pain... I thought he had hurt...he hurt Lindir and I..." He spoke against Elrond's ear, clinging to his shoulders as his knees gave in more and more underneath him. "It was I, Elrond. I... hurt Erestor. I...beat him. I...I didn't stop... I... took him...against his...will...and I... humiliated him...it was...me."

"He told me to bring you back home." Elrond simply said.

"Don't." Glorfindel laughed joylessly. "Do you ever...not do...what he tells you to...do?"

He felt Elrond's lopsided smile against his forehead.

"Rarely." Imladris' lord said. "He raised me well."

Elrond's breath felt nice against Glorfindel's skin, so warm and comforting.

"It's time to go home, Glorfindel." He said.

"You knew." Glorfindel gasped incredulously.

Elrond did not reply.

It took Glorfindel all of his willpower to lift his head and look at his lord.

Yet Elrond no longer looked at him. His hold on Glorfindel tightened. He tried to support him with one arm, reaching for his sword with the other. His face was grim.

Glorfindel tried to follow his gaze, but his view remained blurred. He blinked, concentrating hard, unsure whether it were his eyes or his mind that refused to focus.

And then he saw them.

So many of them that the hills seemed to be swallowed by a massive, black tidal wave.

_You stirred up a hornets' nest._


	11. Chapter 11

"Stay here." Elrond told him.

Then he was gone.

Glorfindel leaned heavily against the tree where Elrond had left him, at the side of what quickly turned into a frenzied battlefield. He gasped for breath and waited for the worst spasms of pain to subside, at least a little. Then he forced his body to stand up, using the tree for support.

He heard a scream – the scream of an elf and he knew it for what it was. One of his men had just died. Killed, slaughtered by orcs too many to count.

Glorfindel drew his dagger.

He stumbled at first, then fell, then crawled, then dragged himself forward.

The marchwarden's words returned to him unbidden.

_'You endanger those you have sworn to protect.'_

He still was their captain. He had led them into this. He had given up on himself and doomed them to—No. No, he would not allow it!

Hauling himself off the ground he buried his dagger to the hilt in the hip of an orc appearing directly before him. Glorfindel leaned in with his full weight and pushed the beast over, grabbing the crude weapon it had dropped and ramming its blade through the creature's eye-socket into its brain.

His triumphant roar replaced the pain-filled cry he would have emitted otherwise.

Lying on his side next to the orc's corpse Glorfindel worked his dagger free from the rotting flesh.

He pulled it out just in time.

A second orc grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up. Glorfindel used the momentum of it to drive his dagger into the orc's throat. He clung to the handle and pulled the blade down with him when the orc let him drop to the ground.

Glorfindel didn't hear its dying shriek nor did he see the creature fall.

Its fellow orcs demanded all of his attention.

Glorfindel knew he could not win against them. He could only take as many of them with him as possible.

_I wanted to die anyway._

Suddenly Elrond was there, flanked by two other soldiers Glorfindel knew well. Their blades cutting down foe after foe in a violent, ancient dance.  
Elrond grabbed him and pulled him close. He called out and three more elves joined them.

The others, six, seven, were too far away, already surrounded by their enemy.

_So few._ Was all Glorfindel could think. _So few of so many._

How many had Elrond brought with him? How many were left? How many of his own party?

As he turned his head he could see one of them on the ground right next of him, eyes wide open, body unmoving, lifeless.

Elves were not meant to die. And yet they did. They died so easily.

Glorfindel had seen it too often.

"Regroup!" Elrond bellowed. "Pull back!"

How many times?

But it was too late.

The other elves were already separated from them by several orcs and no matter how many they cut down there seemed to always be two more waiting to replace one of their fallen companions.

"Ada!"

Glorfindel heard the twins' anguished scream before he realized Elrond was being ripped from his side. The orcs dragged him a few steps and pushed him to the ground in front of them. Their ranks parted and Glorfindel gasped.

The orcs hissed and cowered, making room for the largest of their kind Glorfindel had ever seen. As soon as it had passed them, the smaller orcs closed their ranks again, closing in around it and Elrond, making it impossible to reach them.

The Peredhil tried to get up, but was pushed down again. The next time he tried, his arms trembled and wouldn't hold his body up.

"Flee!" Glorfindel thought he heard Elrond order them. "Hurry!"

They could not have, even had they tried.

They were completely surrounded and one by one Glorfindel saw the others fall while he already lay on the ground, in the mud, unable to get up and, adding to his humiliation, completely ignored by the orcs around him. He no longer posed a threat worthy of their attention. What happened in front of them was more interesting. Elrond still struggled.

The large orc grabbed the Peredhil by the hair, sneered at him with rotten teeth and pushed him back down again. It put its foot on Elrond's back, claws ripping through his armor and digging into his skin.

Elrond screamed as the beast's weight crushed his rips.

The orc reached for its club to smash his head.

Glorfindel didn't realize he himself screamed until he heard the sound.

Someone else did, too, much louder than him, much more potent and angry.

The next thing he saw was an elf breaking out between the rows of orcs with such force that many of the creatures stumbled and fell, simply to make way for him. The others were too surprised to hold him back. He brought himself between Elrond and the orc and with one, powerful upward strike severed the beast's head off its body.

"No one hurts my son!" He snarled, sword blade flashing bright as the surrounding orcs flinched back violently in fear. "No one!"

The club fell to the ground and the elf kicked the large orc's body backwards so it wouldn't burry them underneath it as it fell.

Elrond whimpered silently and Glorfindel saw the other elf cradle his head in his arms before whispering something to him too silent for Glorfindel to hear, but so affectionate it made his lonely heart sting.

_I have seen your eyes. I know who you are._

He thought.

_I have known all along._

For the fraction of a heartbeat the orcs stood frozen, staring unbelieving at the fierce elf who had spoiled their entertainment and killed what undoubtedly was their leader.

Warning cries went up among them.

Rightfully so.

He was terrific in his anger, just like Glorfindel would have imagined him to be.

'Like the Huntsman of the Valar himself' - No. No, rather like his father or older brother if legends did them justice.

_Fëanárion._

Yet his presence alone wasn't enough to drive the orcs away, nor was his drawn weapon pointing at them to keep them at a distance, as his arm followed them while they moved once more and closed in around him and Elrond once more.

His eyes searched, frantically, finally spotting something behind their enemies' lines that Glorfindel couldn't see and the orcs hadn't noticed yet.

"Glorfindel!" He screamed. "Down!"

Glorfindel pushed himself up on his hands to see.

"Stay down!" The other elf's voice commanded and in the same breath he screamed: "Fire!" His voice echoing off the hills surrounding them.

He threw himself over Elrond, shielding the Peredhil's body with his own.

Glorfindel let himself fall flat to the ground, hidden behind the corpse of an orc he had slain.

In what followed there was only room for one sensation: The sound of arrows singing.

Elven arrows, cutting through the air only fractions above them.

Aside of that all was silent.

Only afterwards, when volley after volley had been fired, the first screams went up. Confusion broke out among their enemies. Dying, fleeing. They would not get far.

Another short command and hooves started to thunder down the hillside.

Those orcs that still could turned to flee from fast riders taking up pursuit. The foul creatures cursed, shrieked, grunted. Sharp elven blades cut them down mercilessly.

_Fire._

It made sense that 'fire' had been the word he had called out.

Glorfindel knew it had been him. It had to have been him.

When he lifted his head to see the one he had known as Erestor was already on his knees, leading over Elrond, silently talking to him, caressing his forehead and the side of his face over and over again.

Elrond chuckled and groaned in pain afterwards, taking hold of the other elf's arm.

Erestor nodded and with a last squeeze of Elrond's hand he got up, stalking through the rows of fallen enemies, cutting the throats of those that still breathed.

He walked in circles and when he finally arrived at Glorfindel's side it seemed as though all he had been doing was avoiding to come near him as long as possible.

"Captain." He said, taking off his helmet, the determined expression on his face -a wild look of triumph in his burning eyes- confirming Glorfindel's suspicions once and for all.

_They always said you had inherited more of your mother... but you look so much like your father right now...like I always...imagined him._

From a growing distance he heard the twins call out to them.

Their father was safe now. As safe as could be.

Glorfindel smiled.

_Now I can go to sleep._ He thought.


	12. Chapter 12

Glorfindel woke up to a song he knew.

"Lindir." He whispered, blinking against the sunlight shining through the high windows. Curtains billowed in silence, the song had stopped. "My little nightingale."

"Welcome back." The minstrel said.

Carefully he sat down at the side of Glorfindel's bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." He answered truthfully. "I dreamt of Fëanor cutting down giant orcs."

"Close." Lindir commented. "From what I've heard. Let me help you up. You are thirsty, aren't you?"

Glorfindel nodded and regretted it immediately. His head spun.

"You are angry with me."

"Very." Lindir replied.

"I'm sorry, nightingale."

"I know."

Lindir looked him over with an unreadable expression.

"I am." He finally said. "Disappointed."

Glorfindel had nothing to reply to that.

"Now you know." Lindir said after long moments of silence.

"You have to drink something." He added, helping Glorfindel to sit up.

"There is too much..." The blond Eldar heard himself say. "I hardly know where to start."

"Where did it start?"

"Erestor—"

Lindir tugged a pillow behind his back and made a gesture as if to stop him.

But Glorfindel continued:

"It ended there, too." He said. "I failed. My men, lord Elrond... you." He looked at Lindir and back at his own hands, clean now. "He saved us."

"Ask him." Lindir said with a weak smile. "He will tell you he did what had to be done." He bit his lip. "It's probably true. It is hard tell, with him. You are an open book, compared. But he loves our lord Elrond, he would die for him –or live-, and I believe that makes him love Imladris, too, in his own way."

Another attempt at a smile.

"You knew?" Glorfindel wondered.

"That he is one of Fëanor's infamous sons?" Lindir sat back and breathed in slowly. "Yes." He said. "Yes, of course I knew." He reached for a carafe on the nightstand and poured Glorfindel a cup of water. "Can you drink?" He waited until Glorfindel put the cup down again.

"How?" Glorfindel asked.

Had Elrond told Lindir about it to warn him, of his own foster father, no less?

"I brought him here." Was what Lindir said.

"You?"

Lindir nodded.

"I'm probably the closest thing to a friend he has... and I do care for him. Very much." The minstrel smiled. "He taught me everything I know. Macalaurë is not the most patient teacher, as you can probably imagine, but he did well, I think, others tell me so. He is the reason I have become a minstrel. And the reason I still am one."

"But Erestor—" Glorfindel shook his head. "I cannot think of him as - He hates music."

"No." Lindir said softly. "No, he doesn't hate music. I think quite the contrary is the case... that he loves it too much. He fears tainting it, or that he is no longer worthy of it." He shrugged. "I believe he would prefer it if you kept thinking of him as Erestor."

"I believe he would prefer it if I didn't think of him at all." Glorfindel replied bitterly. "After what I did to him."

"He does not care in the slightest what you think of, Captain, as long as you keep it to yourself." A harsh voice commented from the door. "I will tell Elrond you are awake." With that said he turned to leave.

"Maglor!" Glorfindel called him.

The dark-haired elf didn't react. He walked out of the room without turning back.

"Erestor." Glorfindel said and laughed.

He remembered this particular, grumpy elf and he had never been that glad to see him._  
_

_He didn't fade...Of course not! I haven't broken him. Someone like me never could. He is still here._

Without realizing it he kept on grinning.

"He has been here every day, you know." Lindir mentioned as casually as possible. "He wants to talk to you. He just doesn't quite remember how something like that is done."

* * *

If Erestor wanted to talk to Glorfindel he had a strange way of showing it. But then, that was Erestor and their relationship was far from easy. Glorfindel just did not know where to start.

"I want to embrace him." He told Lindir. "Like that. But he wouldn't understand. He needs words and I have none... I wish I could tell him everything. That I understand. And that I...but after what I did to him..." He hesitated. "I want to know him, nightingale. I want to tell him..."

The minstrel frowned.

"I do not think he holds what happened against you." He said honestly. "The way I know him he probably believes it to be his own fault. And from what you've told me it probably was, partly."

"No!" Glorfindel objected vehemently. "And even if that were the case, that doesn't justify—"

"I know." Lindir said calmly. "I know."

"Were you there?" Glorfindel asked what came to his mind suddenly. "At Alqualondë?"

It took a while until Lindir answered, slowly: "Yes I was."

"Did you see him? Maglor?"

Lindir stood, leaving Glorfindel alone on his bed.

For lack of chairs in Lindir's chambers this had been where they had settled down many times to talk. Somehow it had never occurred to them to go somewhere else.

"I wouldn't remember." Lindir finally said.

"How could you forgive him?" Glorfindel wondered.

There was a different implication to his question as well.

_How could he possibly forgive me?_

"I did not forgive him." Lindir said. "There are things that cannot and should not be forgiven."

He traced his fingertips along the bow of his harp, thinking.

"When I found him by the seashore I didn't feel pity for him, either." He continued. "I knew who he was. It wasn't hard to tell. And I think he knew who I was, as well... But I was wounded, then, exhausted. I had been on my way to Lindon, to Gil-Galad's court and bandits had attacked me. Humans. I had fought them off and outran them, but one of their blades had been poisoned."

As if feeling the pain again Lindir's hand absentmindedly ghosted over his side where the blade must have had cut him.

"I said I found him, but in truth Maglor found me." Lindir chuckled. "I thought he would kill me. I honestly did. The look on his face..." He shook his head. "In hindsight. He probably thought much the same of me."

Glorfindel smiled automatically because Lindir did, even though he didn't feel like it.

"He didn't fear revenge, I think, but he did fear death with the same intensity he craved it ... I had never seen an elf that... worn out... neglected." Lindir's voice had dropped to a whisper. "He was terribly weak, his face gaunt, his hands chapped. I don't think he had eaten for quite a while. His skin had become so thin you could see his fëa burning underneath, slowly but steadily eating away at him. His eyes..." He didn't find the right words. "He shaved his hair, back then, with a sharp stone, refusing to touch a blade—any blade- never minding how much he hurt himself in the process, never cleaning the wounds he caused and reopened every time anew. He didn't cry, not once. I don't think he had the strength left for it. On the other hand...something deep inside him refused to let him die. Maybe it even was his father's spirit or his mother's gentle memory. He could never deny it. So he lived. And that saved my life."

Lindir tugged one of the harp's cords. The clear note vibrating in the air between them.

"I have no idea how he managed to drag me from the water's edge all the way up to the cave where he was hiding. Or how me managed to stay awake at all in the state he was in to care for me... But he did all of that and he found herbs for me, food and water. He cleaned my wounds and washed me. He fed me and when I was too weak to drink he made me. He healed me and cared for me. He supported me when I needed to get up to relief myself, even.  
When I got better he took me to a nearby village. There would be elves, he said, on the way to Lindon, just like I had been. It was the only thing he had said to me during the whole time I had stayed with him. No crooning, no comforting nonsense words, all the time, no explaining what he did or telling me what to do. His hands had been enough, his touch. They were so terribly neglected and disfigured, but despite that his hands were always beautiful. Had I not already known him, I would have recognized him by his hands.  
He turned without another word and left, I thought, and that would have been it. But I made one step and turned around. I don't know why. I saw him fall." Lindir smiled again and Glorfindel didn't quite understand why. "I screamed and I ran towards him. I sank down on my knees beside him. I gathered him in my arms and I whispered nonsense words to him, all the nonsense words he had never used for me. I saw his skin break, smolder, like burning up from the inside and I knew it was useless, but I used the water from my drinking bottle, trying to douse it, imploring him to be strong, promising him to safe him just like he had saved me... It was pathetic. Truly pathetic." He chuckled warmly. "The twins found us."

"The twins?"

Lindir laughed. "The other twins." He said. "Elrond and Elros. They recognized him immediately despite the lamentable state he was in. And they wouldn't stop teasing me for my embarrassing little performance, you know... But I truly was afraid of losing him. I truly was. Elrond won't tell, but he knew it was almost too late and he was afraid, too. He told Maglor to live and he lived. Gil-Galad treated him badly, for all I know. Yet he remained at Elrond's side and I, somehow, too. That's how one day we ended up here. And now."

He caressed the harp once more and came back to sit down next to Glorfindel.

"I never forgave him." He said. "Nor did he ask me to. We just." He shrugged. "Lived." He finally said."That was the best we could do."

Tugging a wayward golden lock behind his friend's ear he added: "I am still afraid of losing him. I will always be. My music is what most matters to me, but without the ones I love there cannot be any music at all. And if you ride away to senslessly slaughter orcs next time, you will answer me letters."

Glorfindel fought hard against the lump in his throat.

"He taught you how to play." He opted to say and felt silly immediately afterwards.

"Yes. He taught me how to play and all the songs I know. Well, most of them anyway." Lindir confirmed. "But that was the only time he touched an instrument and he refused to sing himself... And he made me... there was one condition: That he would leave whenever I played later. That I would not make him listen."

"Anyway." Glorfindel said, clearing his throat. "You are gifted, little nightingale."

Lindir smiled.

"Would you play for me?"

He needed Lindir's music now, to soothe his mind.

"What would you like me to play?" The minstrel asked.

"I have never seen you play that harp." Glorfindel decided.

"That's because I don't play it." Lindir said, leaning his head against Glorfindel's shoulder, regret softly coloring his voice. "I only have it for safe-keeping. I clean it and tune it, I collect it when he carries it around aimlessly, like sleepwalking, and leaves it somewhere... I only keep it as long as he doesn't trust himself enough to take it back."


	13. Chapter 13

"Remove yourself from my office, lord Glorfindel. You are dirty and you stink."

Glorfindel grinned and cocked his head.

Erestor tried very hard to ignore him. However, he had set down the quill with which he had been writing concentrated just a moment ago.

"I'm an elf." Glorfindel stated matter-of-factly.

Erestor's eye-brow shot up in a gesture he now knew Elrond had learned from him.

"We don't get dirty and stink. You should see Estel."

Glorfindel approached Erestor's desk slowly and reached over the mountain of papers on top of it to drop something in front of Elrond's dark Chief Advisor.

"I saved a dying hobbit from a group of Ringwraiths and I found this for you."

Erestor stared at his present as though it were a snake.

"It's a flower, my dear Chief Advisor." Glorfindel said. "Commonly they don't bite. I advise caution, though. You never know."

Erestor slowly picked up the small flower, holding it between trembling fingertips. The way he inspected it one would think he really did expect it to do attack him.

Glorfindel kept on smiling at him happily. Somehow he needed to encourage the other elf, assure him that it truly was nothing but a nice gesture. In truth he didn't feel like smiling anymore, though.

_They have hurt you so much. You cannot even trust such a tiny act of random kindness._ He thought. I _have hurt you._

"Thank you." Erestor muttered.

Glorfindel beamed.

It was the first of many not-so-random presents he would leave in Erestor's office. He didn't go as far as leaving them in front of his chambers, though.

He didn't want his lord's foster father to feel harassed.

_Foster father. _Somehow imagining Erestor wrestling with Elrond and another, equally wicked elfling seemed so completely off that it fitted perfectly.

_He named the twins, too._ He remembered. _He and Celebrian were close. Lindir is his friend.  
_

In the beginning Glorfindel had wondered why the twins didn't fear their father's Chief Advisor in the way any other sane inhabitant of Imladris did. Especially Elrohir had appeared to feel rather comfortable around Erestor. It started to make sense now.

_You are a marvel._ Glorfindel thought.

Erestor had gotten up and with great care placed the flower into a small vase that might never before have held a flower its owner hadn't cut himself.

When Erestor realized that he was being watched he spun around rather abruptly.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. In fact, there is."

"Here it goes. The price for bringing me a flower." Erestor sighed and Glorfindel shook his head.

"No. The flower I brought you."

"Because?"

"No because. I brought you a flower."

Erestor sat down behind his desk again.

"I will not reappoint you Captain of Imladris' forces." He said. "You have done enough. And you may go now."

"I do not want you to." Glorfindel declared, smiling. "I assume you have taken your old post back up again?"

Erestor briefly read what he had written down before Glorfindel had interrupted him and continued writing.

"No." He said.

"So there are other capable elves?"

"Quite."

"Erestor?"

Erestor put down his quill one more time, looking up expectantly and, yes, slightly annoyed.

"Do you like the flower? I could bring you one every day. Do you like flowers?"

Elrond's Chief Advisor started massaging his temples.

"I am not a maiden, Glorfindel. Neither am I your friend. I do not mind flowers, but I am not interested in any more of them. You do not have to feel obligated to—" He started and waved it off. "All of us do have a part to play on Arda and yours had not yet come to pass. You were returned for a good reason. We knew your part would be essential. Elrond has the gift of foresight and I... have seen...enough...enough to guess well." He waved his hand again. "It would have been foolish to lose you due to a little... wounded pride on my part. That is the reason—and the only reason—you are still here. It has nothing to do with sympathy, pity, forgiveness or even respect, nor did any of us necessarily like the decision made. Yet it was made and we agreed it was best this way. If it makes things easier for you, treat it like a second chance."

"A little wounded pride? So that is what they call it nowadays."

"Apparently your part lay in guiding the hobbit safely to Imladris." Erestor continued without paying attention to what Glorfindel said. "And I am glad you did."

"You gave me a bird once. A little figurine your mother had made."

"The Ringwraiths fear you. They flee at your presence and I can see why."

"I was but an elfling, hurt and afraid of the dark. I listened to it sing every night."

"Your presence in Imladris may still be of use for us, after all."

"I tried to hum the melody of its song whenever I sensed the Ringwraiths near."

"I will not speak about what happened and I expect that neither will you."

"I couldn't remember all of it, but the few notes I got right made me fearless once more."

Erestor stopped talking and frowned. After a brief moment of irritation he said: "I apologize. I acted selfishly in provoking you and I paid the price for it. I lament that you were—"

"I let myself provoke." Glorfindel interrupted him. "Why me?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did it have to be me? I bet it could have been anyone. Why me?"

Erestor suddenly grew very pale and turned back to his papers, though the quill had long fallen to the ground at his feet. He hadn't even noticed.

"Macalaurë...- I can't..." Glorfindel chuckled. "I can't seem to remember how to ask 'why?' in Quenya."

Though shocked after hearing his name used by Glorfindel with such gentleness the corners of Erestor's mouth twitched, ever so slightly. A smile, almost.

"Why did you chose me?" Glorfindel repeated. "When I was out there, hunting orcs, what I had done haunted me. I wanted them to injure me. I wanted them to punish me and it grew worse with each of them I slew. They only dirtied me more. And you. I wanted to forget you, yet you kept on haunting me. I wanted to know you so badly just to remember you better. I needed to somehow... I could not forget your face, your voice... I wanted so desperately to see you again and on the other hand there was probably nothing I feared more—tell me. Why me?"

"Why let me provoke you?"

It was more than obvious that Erestor did not expect an answer. That was why he asked in the first place. Yet Glorfindel did answer, truthfully:

"I wanted you. From the first time we met here in Imladris I wanted you. Yet I could not have you. I tried, you must have noticed. Yet I had no power over you. I wanted that. I wanted that power over you."

Erestor looked at him.

"If my important part on Arda is done now, can you treat me like you would, weren't I essential to some grand scheme you have chosen to sacrifice your wellbeing to and like a person again?" Glorfindel added. "Can you live like a person again?"

Erestor closed his eyes and slowly opened them again. "I had every chance to 'live like a person' long ago. It created a debt I cannot hope to ever repay. You saw my face. I see a hundred faces and try to remember a thousand names. History has forgotten to mention so many of them and no one would believe me if I told them now. They are gone and I cannot seem to-" He shook his head slowly. "You had your reasons for what you did, other than what you just said. You protected Lindir and I admire your—ruthless determination." His dark eyes looked everywhere but at the blond Eldar in front of him. "Lindir said you shine when he first saw you. He could have been right. I wouldn't know. Anyway, he has found a true champion in you and I am...happy... for that." In a whisper he added: "I would never hurt him."

"I know." Glorfindel said.

Slowly Erestor looked up at him.

"I hurt you and I cannot stop regretting it." Glorfindel said. "You did not deserve what I did to you, even if you think so. You had done nothing wrong. You had not hurt Lindir. I was in the wrong. That you were provoking me should not be the reason I –or anyone—should give to excuse such actions... It does not...excuse...such actions... I honestly do not know where I could start to make up for it."

Glorfindel had rehearsed this particular speech many times. Yet now that he finally had to say it the words came out completely different from what he had planned. They came from the heart.

"I do not think there is any way I could apologize. I do not think you should, or I could, for the matter, forgive me for what I did to you. It is inexcusable." He took a deep breath. "But my bringing you a flower has nothing to do with it." He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeves and felt very small. "It is a much older notion, you see. When I came to Imladris, long before anything else, I just wanted to befriend you...and if not befriend you then at least make you smile...just once... happily. I thought you deserved it and I still do...You are a truly remarkable elf and though they fear you, many admire you and could not imagine this home without you... Not to mention Elrond who...clearly...adores you...and you love him...Lindir and the twins... I just wanted... I wanted to tell you that you are not alone...or unwanted...even though you keep everyone from you as hard as you can...they still...some still have managed to reach you and I wish... I wish you would allow them to embrace you the way you should be embraced, instead of trying to punish yourself by rejecting them or hiding it... and that maybe one day... One day I would like to be your friend...or at least something close to it, if you would have me...after what I did to you. Which is a crime and... the worst -almost. That I know. I should have been..."

This time it was Erestor who shook his head.

"I would not have faded from something like that." He said. "I am no pure maiden that would have had to feel she lost something essential. I had it coming, I wanted it to happen, though I did not enjoy it as I had hoped. Nor am I... It doesn't matter."_  
_

_It isn't the first time someone abuses you. You think you're already used to it, but I see you flinch every time I come too close. It isn't the first time you didn't fight back and someone took advantage of that. You think you deserve it, but you do not._

Glorfindel had an idea of how that felt. Merely the shred of an idea and even that was enough.

"It is true, though." Erestor said. "I could not have sailed had I wanted to and will never."

"Have you tried?" Glorfindel interrupted him without thinking.

"No." The dark-haired elf admitted.

"What you and your—what Fëanor lead you to do—what you did is terrible. I do not think there is a way to make up for it or to earn forgiveness. I do not think there could possibly be atonement for something so terrible." Glorfindel admitted. "But I also do not think eternal suffering to be a just punishment."

It took Erestor a moment to collect himself.

"I was there at Alqualondë." He said. "I fought and killed just like my brothers did. I did not spare anyone. I did not show mercy. I am no different from them. Do not believe that."

"Yet Lindir loves you."

Erestor looked at his hands and at the quill on the floor.

"Lindir admires you as a musician and he respects you as a teacher. But he also loves you as a friend. How do you think that can be?"

"I don't know." Erestor whispered.

"Maybe we should try to find out." Glorfindel suggested just as silently.

"We?" Erestor repeated doubtingly.

"We." Glorfindel confirmed.

In the silence that followed Erestor's dark eyes seemed Glorfindel to be incredibly huge, incredibly frightened. Though his body-language spoke of defiance, hostility even.

"I would like that." He said softly, suddenly. He himself seemed surprised.

Glorfindel nodded.

He wouldn't push Erestor any further, not yet.

"Elrond sent me to tell you there will be an official council meeting concerning the hobbit and he wants you to attend." He said instead.

"I know." Erestor replied, running the back of his hand over his eyes, wiping tears away that hadn't fallen. "He knows I know. I will be there."

"Your name isn't on the list." Glorfindel said.

"Maglor is dead." Erestor muttered. "My name isn't anywhere."

"Maglor is dead." The blond Eldar confirmed. "He has been dead for many years. I've seen him walk our halls with empty eyes and I've felt the coldness of Mandos' halls clinging to him... But Erestor is here. He is still young and he has yet to live."

He handed Elrond's Chief Advisor the paper listing the participants of Elrond's Council.

"Times are getting darker and they will be hard times." Glorfindel continued. "We will need elves like him. He is quite capable, as far as I've heard."

Had Erestor stopped breathing? It almost seemed that way.

"Once all of this is over- and we will defeat this growing evil—there will be many celebrations." Glorfindel said. "Erestor will attend them, too. I would like to have him named alongside myself... If he wouldn't mind, of course."


	14. Chapter 14

"Tom Bombadil?" Glorfindel asked once they were out of earshot. "You still think it would be a good idea to give the ring to Tom Bombadil?"

"Certainly. " Erestor replied, letting his gaze wander over the valley far below them, looking so peacefully despite their rather noisy guests.

Maybe it was them, their noise and liveliness, that made this special kind of peace possible in the first place. A peace that went deeper than silent hours and beautiful waterfalls.

"Yes, I still think it is."

Erestor stood still, craning his neck a little to better feel the wind caress his face. It was one of those tiny habits of his that he would never admit if confronted with it openly, but that Glorfindel loved to witness even more.

Those tiny gestures, Erestor did that sometimes now.

Glorfindel smiled.

"We know what happens once the ring corrupts a human. Or what it could do to one of us." Erestor explained. "If you give it to a hobbit –at worst— what you get is Gollum." He looked back over his shoulder."Now imagine Tom Bombadil."

Glorindel's smile widened into a grin.

"Is that your father's humor shining through?"

Erestor turned back towards the valley.

"How can you talk about him like that?" He whispered.

"Like what?" Glorfindel asked. "Like he were an actual person?"

Erestor said nothing.

Slowly Glorfindel approached him and unbuttoned his cloak.

"Grieve for him." He said, draping the soft fabric over the other elf's shoulders. "Mourn him and those that were killed. But do not regret that you do. I know that now. They only haunt you if you do."

To his surprise Erestor nodded. Barely, but he nodded. And slowly, haltingly, his fingers found their way to Glorfindel's cloak, clasping it and drawing it closer.

"I have a request." The blond Eldar said after a few moments of comfortable silence.

"What do you want?" Erestor asked, voice filled with doubt and his usual suspicion.

"My song." Glorfindel said. "I think you have it. You are probably the only person who knows it." He stepped out next to Erestor, looking out over the valley. "I would like to hear my song again some time."

He felt Erestor's doubtful gaze linger on him briefly and suspected it turned back towards the valley afterward.

With a certainty he could not explain, though, he knew that Erestor smiled.


	15. Afterword

Good day to you, dear reader.

Since you are here now, you have arrived at the end of_ Left the Music behind_.

I would like to use this opportunity to thank you for reading my little drabble, for leaving reviews, favorite-ing, following or dropping me a short PM. Whatever you like, whatever you did or will do or refuse to do because you feel the author is way too obviously fishing for it.

Since most of you probably are fanfiction writers themselves, you know what it means to write and publish, to worry and hope and to finally get a response –anything!

My fanfictions are meant to entertain, me in writing and you in reading them. Great literature they are not. And not meant to be. Yet, they are meant to be enjoyed. Therefore I sincerely hope you have had a pleasant read.

Best wishes,

Rain Day


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